River of Dreams
by MintChocolate5
Summary: At twelve, she fell hard but learned better. Now eighteen, a single glance changes everything in one, long domino effect. Kim/Jared imprint story with heart and soul and a drop of lemon.
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.

Rated: M, for sexual situations, extreme language.

**The rating is for future chapters, and I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter, if applicable, so you can read at your own discretion. **

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CHAPTER 1: She's Got A Way

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I slipped into AP Literature with only seconds until the bell to spare. My legs were shaky since I had run from the office to get to class on time and my breathing told me I needed to work out more. I made a plan to go running tomorrow morning and start my regime into fitness, so when the time came that I needed to make a dash to class again, I would be ready!…

Yeah, that's about as believable as me not having three books in my book bag, just in case the first two got lost.

But, hey, I liked making plans and setting goals for myself. I took my seat, sadly in back (I was more of a front person) because it was assigned, and pulled out my notebook and planner. I jotted down the note about jogging and located last night's homework to turn in.

I had just passed my essay forward when I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. I looked up to ensure Mrs. Curry was busy collecting papers before slyly (and totally badass) removing my phone from my pocket and flipping it open to see who was texting me.

_Did u get it?_ Becky, a friend of mine, had sent. She was in Economics right now so she couldn't have seen me come into class at a sprint.

I looked up again, because I really hated getting in trouble, and quickly typed back: _Yes_.

There was a quick reply of _Thx _and I stuffed my cell back into my jeans. I tried not to feel nervous about the stuff sitting innocuously in my bag, but it was hard. There was nothing to be ashamed of, especially since it was for another person, but I felt awkward anyway.

I refocused my attention on the class, watching in confusion as Mrs. Curry wrote something about poetry meter on the board. "Iambic pentameter has a unstressed syllable followed by a stressed. Like, da-_dum_, and we can see this prevalently in Shakespeare and I want everyone to remember back to…" she droned, and I tuned back out. I was definitely not a poet. I could handle writing essays if the instructions were explicit and it was a structured type of expository. But fictional writing and poetry…not my forte. I loved reading, but lacked the desire to write. I thought it was a weird flaw of mine, since those two interests normally went hand-in-hand. Oh, well.

My eyes drifted back to the little brown bag and I blushed, sinking further in my seat. I scanned the room for distraction once more, as the actual school aspect was of little interest to me. I never thought I would get the much-talked of senioritis, yet it was only three months into the school year and I was having trouble working up much enthusiasm. I saw Danielle Bly whispering with Dena Haloke, probably about our homecoming dance which was in three weeks. And a couple of guys were fooling around, tossing mini-paper footballs at each other. My eyes inevitably led to an empty desk a few rows down…

Jared Tala.

My heart began to hammer and my palms got clammy. I sank further down than should have been possible and sighed at my pathetic reactions. Just hearing--no, _thinking_--his name, and I turn to mush. I tried to persuade myself that it was simply because he had been absent for almost two and a half weeks. Having lost my requisite staring time (damn, I sounded like such a creeper), I was reduced to incoherency at the very thought of his name. It was just sensitivity that would go away again when I became once more de-sensitized to his presence.

I focused once more to make sure I wasn't missing anything important, realized Mrs. Curry was still discussing the common forms of poetry, and settled in my thoughts about my long-term crush.

Jared Tala and I had gone to school together for six years. I had come to the reservation when my mom had died and I'd moved in with my father. It wasn't a particularly great year for me but the young boy had made it just a little bit better. I remember standing outside my new school for on my first day, scared and nervous. I wasn't sure where to go, since my father had dropped me off and driven away without instructions (remember how I mentioned being a fan of those?), and was too shy to ask. I ended up standing at the front of the school for a longtime, simply debating what to do. The bell had eventually rang, perpetuating my fear of this unknown place now that I was late. I had stumbled inside, working up enough determination to at least do something.

Just as I had entered the doorway, I collided with someone, rebounding off them in surprise more than impact. "I-I'm s-sorry!" I recall croaking out, my voice sounding scratchy from disuse. The person had no way of knowing it, but it was the first time I had spoken in almost a month.

"It's ok," a boy, once I got my embarrassment under control enough to raise my eyes, said. He wasn't much taller than me (that would definitely change as we got older!) and had messy black hair paired with friendly brown, also almost black, eyes. Just looking at him made me relax slightly, such was his effect on me even then. It was probably that, coupled with my worry of my tardiness on my first day and desperation, that I initiated further conversation.

"Could, uh, you tell me where the office is?" I mumbled under my breath, looking at the floor and then at him through my lashes.

The boy, whose name I was too shy to ask, smiled at me. Warmth had coursed through my body, making me feel lighter than I had since before my mother's death. I'm sure I made a fool of myself by staring at him in amazement but that, at least, didn't hit me until later when I had time to reflect on the encounter. I've dissected it a million times since then and realized that I likely looked at him like he was my Hercules or Adonis. (I eventually learned to school my expression and hide my adoring glances.)

"Sure, no problem. What's your name? When did you come to the rez?" At my slightly overcome look, he laughed boyishly and explained, "everyone knows everyone. We've all gone to school together since kindergarten."

"I'm Kim," I muttered, following the boy as he led me to the front office. "I just moved here, uh, last week," I couldn't help the flooding color in my cheeks. I was momentarily grateful for my naturally darker skin.

"Cool," he said, "I'm Jared. Here's the office," he pointed to a door that had ended the encounter way too soon for my young heart to accept.

"Thanks," I fidgeted, moving slowly to the door.

"You're welcome," he smiled again and turned to walk off in another direction. I watched his retreating back with envy, wishing I was walking with him.

That became a precedence for our entire schooling career. Him, walking confidently away; me, watching him depart with a wistful gaze.

I didn't see Jared again until lunch. I vacillated about whether or not to greet him since we had only met once. I decided to try and say hi. Gathering my courage, I walked to where he was surrounded by tons of friends.

I stood behind him in tormented nervousness. Someone noticed me loitering and pointed. Jared turned around. I expected him to shoot me another one of his nice smiles and I opened my mouth to say what I had valorously intended to relate. Instead, he quickly turned away, ignoring my presence wholly.

I felt crushed and stupid, standing with my mouth wide and eyes hurt. I fled to the opposite corner of the cafeteria, holding my tears at bay and silently waiting for the bell to signal the end of lunch.

Of course, I don't hold that day against Jared. He was just a little popular boy, who couldn't be bothered with the new girl who'd he only talked to once. He might not have even realized that I was standing there waiting to talk to _him_. It sounds like an excuse (and it is) but it justified it in my mind enough so that I could get over the whole incident. Unfortunately, I wound up with a huge crush on Jared Tala, one that has never completely faded…and has grown in its intensity.

The sad part is that Jared still doesn't acknowledge my independent existence or count me as a friend. He knows my name, at least enough to ask to borrow a pen or briefly chat about a school assignment, but that is probably as much as he knows about me personally. I, pitifully, know all about him.

"…Kimberly?" Mrs. Curry startled me out of my daze. I jumped in my seat, banging my knee on the top of the desk, much to the amusement of the rest of the class.

"Huh?" I asked stupidly, eyes busily searching for a clue to what question or comment I had missed.

Mrs. Curry looked at me in exasperation. I felt guilty; she was a nice person and didn't deserve to have a class of inattentive students, me adding to her burden. "Please pay attention, Kimberly, and read the poem on the board."

I did as she asked, my face red but my words clear. I finished as fast as I could and she went on with her lesson. I made a point of half-listening in case she called on me again. I doubted she would but I didn't want to be caught unaware.

The bell sounded a few minutes later and I was going to rush hastily out of class but a particular name caught my ear.

"Hey, Mrs. C, can I have Jared's missed assignments? I'm going to drop them off at his house after school," Danielle chirped in her falsetto voice. It scratched unpleasantly at my ears; or maybe it was just her words that were doing that. She was a friend of Jared's but plainly wanted to be more. My only consolation was that he didn't give her the time of the day. They had dated briefly, two years ago, at the beginning of sophomore year. It hadn't lasted long for Jared, but seemed to not have ended for Danielle.

"That's very nice of you, Ms. Bly, but Mr. Tala already came by yesterday to pick up his missed work."

I had been leisurely gathering up all my stuff, and messing around with my bag to make my delay seem valid, when her words froze me. So Jared was alright? I had been worried for the past two weeks, enough that I had called his home number and had hung up when he'd answered, his voice sounding gravelly. As long as he was alive, I was content to not freak out and stalk his house. That would have been a little much, even for me. But the more he was away from school, the more I was concerned. Hearing that he had gotten his homework settled nerves I didn't even know were there.

"Oh!" exclaimed Danielle, apparently as surprised by that as I was. "Is he coming back soon?"

"He should be recovered and back by tomorrow," Mrs. Curry said, making me feel even lighter. I didn't wait around to hear more because I only had two minutes to get to my next class. I felt so relieved and excited for the next day.

I fled down the hallway with an irrepressible smile.

~*~

**Reviews are better than Jared's smile.**


	2. Chapter 2

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Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.

Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language in future chapters.

**And so we explore a bit of Kim's homelife…**

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CHAPTER 2: My Life

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The final bell sounded at precisely 2:35 and I rushed out with the rest of the students to my locker. Becky was waiting for me when I arrived.

"Did you get it?" she repeated without salutation.

"No," I said sarcastically, "I lied earlier just to get your hopes up."

She hit me rather harder than necessary and glared. "Hand it over, Kimmy."

I winced at the nickname. "Don't call me that," I whined but obligingly dug through my bag until I came across the brown package. I looked around to ensure no one was looking and quickly handed her the goods.

"A month's supply?" she asked.

"Yes," I whispered back, turning to my locker in an effort to convey that I wanted the exchange to end pronto.

Becky gave me a one-armed hug. "You're the best!" she declared, slipping the box inside her own large purse. I stared at it, intimidated for a moment. What was it with girl's and big purses? Did they really need to haul around such a monstrosity? To add to that, she also had a backpack that was even bigger. I just didn't get it.

I nodded without modesty at her praise. "I know I am."

"Was it embarrassing?"

I shrugged. "Yes, but the nurse didn't question me."

Becky snickered. "What was she going to say, 'Kimberly Magena, I wasn't aware you had a boyfriend or were sexually active! No birth control for you!'"

I slammed my locker door shut to disguise Beck's words. "Shut up," I hissed. "You told me we wouldn't talk about it if I did this favor for you."

"Sorry," she said without an ounce of sincerity. Really, the girl should be a little more appreciative. Becky and I had been friendly since the ninth grade when we'd gotten into an argument over Jane Austen's best novel (I was a firm advocator of _Emma_, while she beat out the tune of _Pride and Prejudice_). But it wasn't until rather recently that our friendship had deepened and she'd asked me to get her birth control pills because: "People would notice me getting the pills and I don't want anyone to know about my boyfriend yet." She had strict parents, and was dating in secret right now. I thought it was all very romantic and agreed to get the goods. Who was I to go against safe intercourse? Plus, I had an awesome superpower at my disposal; invisibility. Practically at will, I could shrunk into myself and mentally force other's eyes to pass over me. It was a pretty terrific thing.

So I abused my power for the greater good of Becky and her sex life. She really should try a few more thank yous.

"Anyway," I steered the subject away from the brown package (just because I agreed to get it, didn't mean that I wasn't mortified about being seen with it) and to way more important topics. "Have you heard anything about Jared Tala?"

Becky gave me a look. One that clearly said: That is the fifth time you've asked me that today, and you know the answer. "No, you crazy stalker, I haven't. Have you?"

I beamed and nodded. "He is supposed to be coming back tomorrow!" I cheered. She was aware of my crush on him. At least, that's what she thought it was. I didn't mention the duration of this pining, though,. Six years sounded sad even to me.

"Sweet," she replied distractedly, digging around the massive abyss for her keys. We walked together to the parking lot, where Becky would take her car and I would either catch the bus or walk.

"Want a ride?" Becky asked when we came at our crossroad. I did want a ride, but she lived in the opposite direction of me so I politely declined and waved goodbye.

"Later, Kimmy, and thanks!"

I smiled in response and loaded onto the bus.

~*~

The bus ride went quickly and deposited me a few blocks from my house. My father and I lived alone at the end of the street, in a one-story light blue house. I made a note of the chipped paint and cracked boards on the porch.

I used my key to open the door and slipped my shoes off at the front precariously. "Hello!" I yelled absently, picking up the mail from the floor where it had been slotted in. No one responded, per usual, and I took all my stuff to the kitchen and plopped in a chair.

I separated the mail into two piles: bills and other. The bills portion compromised most of the mail, with a few credit card advertisements, and a reminder about our homecoming dance. I tossed that pile away.

The bills were starting to stack up again, and I sighed at the realization that I would have to spend the night going through and paying them. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. My father should be home in two days, maybe three. He worked at a manufacturing company in Seattle, a few hours away, and rented an apartment that he stayed at most of the week.

So, essentially, I was alone in the house most of the week. It could be rather scary (I usually kept a few lights on at night) but, thankfully, I had an amazing guardian to protect me. Which reminded me…

I opened the fridge and removed a few, unwanted broccoli stalks and dashed into my room. A squeaking voice greeted me. "Oh, you Raunchy Pig!" I giggled, the play on words never getting old.

Yes, I owned a pet guinea pig named Raunchy Pig. And I still found it funny, even a year and a half after getting him. "Did you have a good day?" I cooed in a baby voice. "Mine was eh. I got a B on my history test and did a favor for Becky. She's got this boyfriend and needed, uh…" I decided I didn't want to corrupt my baby and skipped over that part, "something. And, Jared is coming back tomorrow!"

After listening attentively to Raunchy Pig's day (apparently, he had a very active run around his cage), I returned to the kitchen. I set out the bills, the checkbook, and two containers of tic-tacs. I would need it.

An hour later, I was still working steadily and down one pack of tacs. I had to re-do the checkbook balance twice, since it wasn't matching the bank statement; I didn't have the greatest mathematical skills and had to carefully look everything over five times before it was accurate.

I had just decided to take a break when I heard the front door squeaking its way open. My heart jumped in surprise.

My father wasn't supposed to be home this soon. I had a discontented feeling and knew immediately what the deal was.

"Hey, Dad," I called out impassively.

Uneven footsteps treaded toward the kitchen. I stared at the still-large pile of paper on the table and at the clock. It was only four.

It would be a long night.

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"Your eyes are too small!" my father shouted nonsensically. "They don't fit your goddamn face."

I felt a sting of hurt but suppressed the feeling with a sigh. I snatched away the unopened bottles of beer and detoured past the backdoor and threw them out angrily, all unnoticed. He was far gone. It was already past midnight and Pat Magena, my wonderfully un-sober father, was raving and keeping me from my warm, cozy bed. As soon as he had walked in the door, I knew this would happen. He had done this since I had moved in with him, but not as often as he did now.

He was never violent, just wordy and had a tendency of shouting mean things at me. And keeping me up. He always wanted company when he was like this and would shout or sing loudly so I couldn't sleep and would be essentially forced to remain awake until he passed out or screamed for me to get lost.

I returned to sit on the couch, where I pulled my knees in to my chest and wrapped a wool blanket around my shoulders. I hadn't a chance to finish the bills or get to my homework. Pat didn't like my attention focused elsewhere.

He had begun to calm down and I calculated that it would be another thirty minutes or so before I could go to bed. He would shout out every now and then.

"Your mother had that same wide face, mostly fucking cheekbones, the bitch," he snapped without looking at me. I wondered why having high cheekbones made my mom a bitch.

I popped two more tic-tacs and stared at a crack in the ceiling. I knew I wasn't the prettiest girl in La Push but wasn't your own father supposed to think so? Maybe I was just so unattractive that I even repelled him. I wasn't blind; I knew I was plain, with a nose and mouth too broad for beauty. My hair was black and rather thin but still had an uncontrollable curl to it, reaching just past my shoulders. I usually fastened it back to avoid having to mess with it.

I wasn't tall or short, but fell directly in the middle. The most uncomfortable part of my appearance was my body which was more curvy and wide than what society considered beautiful. I didn't consider myself overweight, but I did feel like more of a classic body type with round hips, larger thighs, and a chest to match. I wore baggy t-shirts and pants to disguise these shapes though.

So, basically, I had no redeeming factors. I had nice skin, I guess. And my teeth were white.

Even my personality wasn't golden. I was often described as 'nice and a little shy'. No exciting verbs or adjectives, or mention of my obsession with Billy Joel (fan girl sigh), or anything interesting really. I had this cool power of invisibility, or maybe it was a curse. I liked to label it a power though. It made me feel better.

"A stupid bitch," my father muttered, his eyes _finally _drooping closed. I didn't know, or care, who he was talking about. I stiffly rose after waiting five minutes to ensure he really was sleeping and went to my room.

I tried not to be such a crybaby about it, but a few tears inevitably escaped. They turned into sobs, which eventually shook my body so hard I thought I might be ill.

I was nothing to anyone. Just a worthless waste of space. I was unloved and pathetic and ugly…motherless…with a drunk father and no friends…unrequited love…

Eventually, I wore myself out and fell into a dreamless sleep.

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_**Reviews prompt sooner harmful action delivered to Kim's asshole father. Don't you feel sad for her? **_


	3. Chapter 3

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**Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.**

**Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language in future chapters.**

**More Kim, no Jared yet…**

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CHAPTER 3: And So It Goes

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My eyelids felt like the size of Alaska and I had a headache that was trying to pound nails into my frontal lobe. I didn't want to wake up but my throat was parched and I needed to pee. Isn't that the oddest feeling: being really thirsty and having to pee? Which do you do first? Drink or bathroom? I decided to go with the bathroom since I risked a flood otherwise.

The trip to the bathroom allowed my fuzzy mind to catch-up on what had happened last night. I washed my hands and dashed back to my room (not a long dash, but I'm counting it as exercise) and look at the clock.

11:15am.

No! I had missed my AP Lit class! And half the day of school already. I must have forgotten to set my alarm or maybe I slept through it. That reminded me…

I tiptoed into the living room and saw my father still reclined, sleeping, in his favorite chair. A little drool was escaping his mouth and he let out a long snore, twitching his nose. I found it easier to think in the morning, when my mind wasn't be bombarded by tiredness and vitriol.

I didn't hold last night, or any of the preceding times, against him. I knew that he struggled to keep a job and provide a steady income. Before I had moved in with him (my parents had been divorced), he had been fine. So really, in a way, it was my fault that he drank his problems (a.k.a: me) away. I compensated for being a burden by doing the household chores, paying the bills, and staying out of the way. I think this is where my power of invisibility originated from, the need to be unseen in my own house.

I have to admit though; him coming home drunk was getting more common. We didn't have a lot of money and I think he worried about making ends meet. The money situation was worse when I was younger, but he hadn't drank as much. It use to only happen once every six weeks or so, a manageable amount. Now he was coming home early and wasted out of his mind practically once a week. It scared me to think of him driving such a long distance intoxicated. I had tried to talk about it with him before but that only ended in him denying everything and accusing me of "being on his ass" when he was only "trying to relax". He never remembered what he said when he woke up and reverted back into the man who had struggled to be a decent father to me.

Really, Pat did the best he could and I knew that. I also knew that I wasn't the best daughter a father could want; plain in looks and personality. How could I really blame him for thinking lowly of me when I thought the same of myself?

I decided not to wake him up and find out why he had returned two days early. I sent up a small prayer that this didn't mean he had lost his third job in two years. We really needed this…but, just in case, I would go through the bills again and see where we could make reductions. Three meals a day was a bit overdone anyway, right? And running the heat when we had plenty of blankets was wasteful.

I knew I should probably go finish the day of school but I felt drained and listless still and didn't feel up to putting a fake smile on my face. Maybe I would go running instead…but one look out the window informed me that it would be more like swimming. Good, old La Push. You can count on the weather to never change, that's for sure. We probably got one day of sun a month, max. Or it felt like that, at least. The good thing about the weather was that it matched my mood nine times out of ten.

Still, I changed into running clothes just in case. Well, I would probably be walking more than running or jogging, but thinking of exercise perked me up a little more. Heaven knows why.

So, in leggings and a baggy t-shirt with Billy Joel's face on it (I wonder if I could make one like this, but with Jared's face?), I finished the bills and made a list of where we could cut our spending.

Heat, house repair, and our grocery bill. I vowed to spend ten dollars less a week on food by buying generic brands instead of my preference of the name-brands. I could cut forty dollars off the heat bill if I turned it off during the day and only heated the house for an hour or two when I was home. I had a decent stock of winter coats and pants, as well as wool blankets; I would be fine.

The house definitely needed to be fixed up before the first snowstorm and I had planned on calling a repairman…but who says I can't do it? If I got a instructional book or video from the library, or maybe looked it up online, I think I might be able to orchestrate a quick-fix. It sounded like a plan to me and I felt better.

"Kim?" My father's voice croaked and I turned, startled. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his eyes blearily. I pasted on my best good morning smile.

"Morning, Dad," I said, already standing up to retrieve an unasked for glass of water.

I handed the glass to him and he took a seat. He didn't thank me but surveyed the table with a tired gaze. "How are the bills going?"

I took my seat again and lied, "Fine. I've gotten this month taken care of and we aren't behind. How was work?" I quietly inquired, desperately trying to sound casual and not prying. I needed to know if he still had the job in Seattle, though.

"Work was work," he groused, handing me the cup so I would get him a re-fill. This ungrateful, expected subservience bothered me the most about Pat. I wouldn't mind if he would only thank me once in a while or make the request vocally. But I perpetuated the attitude by never protesting, so I guess I can't complain.

"You're home early," I observed, not looking at him.

He closed his eyes and leaned on an open palm. "Dan," that was his boss, "told me to go home early since we finished the Bradley Project ahead of schedule."

I felt relieved. I had worried that he had lost his job. "That's great!" I exclaimed with a genuine smile now.

Something seemed to occur to him and he glanced at the clock on the wall. "Why aren't you in school?"

"I wasn't feeling well this morning," I lied, again. I disliked lying yet I saw it as necessary to live a somewhat peaceful life. I was a pacifist.

Appeased by my explanation, he returned to his previous position. "Take some Advil," he advised.

"I will," I agreed. "Would you like anything to eat?"

"Eh, no," he sounded like the thought of food made him want to vomit. A vicious part of me wanted him to suffer and feel horrendous, so I didn't offer him coffee or anything that I heard could be constituted as a hangover cure.

The silence started to stretch. There was nothing left to talk about; I stood and glided to my bedroom.

I saw my cell phone (maybe I should consider getting rid of it…) flashing, indicating a text message was awaiting. I flipped it open.

_Where r u? _Becky had sent at 9:53am.

_Skipper_, Hani, another friend, wrote at 11:12am.

And then from Beck again at 11:35am, which was during lunch: _OMFG!! Cant believe u missd this…JT is back and…hotdamn!!_

My heart sped up. I immediately replied: _What happened? _

She was still at lunch, so we had a back and forth exchange.

_U should b here. Serious hottie now. _

_He was hot b4._

_But now…he grew like 6in and v. muscled._

_What?!_

_He is actin weird 2._

_How so?_

_Not talkin to ne1 but Paul._

_Wtf?_

_Idk._

_Tell me more!_

_That is all I kno._

_Oh. _

_Y arent u here?_

_Sick._

_Liarrr._

_Whatevr._

_Bell just rang. G2g._

_Later._

The brief conversation left me confused. Jared wasn't talking to anyone? He had grown a few inches in two weeks? How the hell does that happen? I conjectured that Becky was exaggerating, or maybe he had taken to doing drugs…but no, Jared wasn't like that.

But then, how would I know what Jared was like? I attempted to learn as much as possible about the guy but there is a finite amount to be learned when you don't get it from the original source. For example, I knew he wasn't a morning person and that he had a long scar on the back of his neck from playing basketball. Yet that only prompted more questions. Did that mean he was a night owl? Or that he was simply lackluster during school? And, was that the only scar he had (I didn't think so)?

My feelings toward him greatly confused me. I didn't think I was in love with Jared simply because I didn't know enough about him. But my crush was intense and I had always felt a magnetic pull toward him that he apparently did not feel in return. It was difficult; fighting the urge each day to talk to him, or saddle closer or simply stare. He wasn't beautiful, but he had a roguish and handsome veneer that I privately thought was way more attractive than having symmetrical or perfect features. His nose was a little too big for his face, and he had a wide mouth that produced booming laughs. He stood at, I'd guess, 6'4, with long dark hair and piercing brown eyes. That was a simple description of him though. It didn't include his graceful movements or the way his eyes would light up when someone told a funny joke. There were so many little things that I just lov--liked about him.

Now, I was regretting not being in school today. My body was literally thrumming with excess energy that buzzed at me to get my ass to school so I could see my crush. It had been two weeks too long.

The time indicated that going to school now would be moot. It was almost over.

I resigned myself to a night of wondering and speculation until I could make my own judgment call when I saw him the next day.

For the second day in a row, it would be a long night.

~*~

_**Reviews make me feel taller than Jared.**_


	4. Chapter 4

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Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.

Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language.

**WARNING: This chapter does contain an explicit scene of a sexual nature. If this bothers you, please skip to the second half of the chapter. Otherwise, enjoy!**

~*~

CHAPTER 4: Sometimes a Fantasy

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I woke up grumbling at my alarm clock, which had been set an extra hour early in hopes that I would decide to go on a morning run. I glanced out the window, noted the grey skies that would likely release a torrent of rain the minute I stepped outside, and pressed snooze.

Raunchy Pig had heard the noise, however, and began chirping happily. How could he not realize that it was the ungodly hour of 5:30am? I moaned pathetically into my pillow, trying to tune his excitement out. What did he have to be chipper about?…

Then I remembered. I would get my fix of Jared today!

Leaping out of bed would be an over exaggeration. I left my cocoon of warmth and goodness without _much _hesitation. I had a few relapses back into the coziness before I sprinted through the hallway to my bathroom and into the hot shower. I had motivation, after all.

The water brought me to a more aware state of consciousness and I vowed to never sacrifice the heavenly accommodation of hot water. Never, ever, _ever_.

I soaked leisurely for a while, allowing my thoughts to wander. The shower nozzle was relaxing and, like how I spent most of my spare ponderings, I thought of Jared.

What he was doing right now? Likely still sleeping. Or maybe just getting up to take his own shower. I tried to picture him; stumbling, still mostly asleep to the bathroom. He would throw on the shower, quickly discarding his boxers (I couldn't imagine him sleeping in much else) and stepping in. That train of cognition led me to further visuals…

A naked Jared opening my shower door and stepping in, greeting me with a passionate kiss. "Good morning, love," he would whisper against my lips, pressing his body into mine. I groaned aloud, further imagining how his hands would glide down my body, caressing. He would start at my shoulder, tracing a pattern only he knows. Slowly, his hands would trail downwards, passing over my breasts with a squeeze and gentle pinch.

"Do you like that?" he'd growl, and I'd moan yes, inducing him to move his mouth down for an open kiss upon on each breast. His lips would return to mine, but his hands would continue their path over my stomach, causing me to giggle into our kiss, and lower they would go…

I would gasp when he inserted a large finger inside me, moving slowly in a pulsing rhythm. We would stand that way for a minute, my breathing increasing with each passing second. "Please, more," I'd beg, and he'd laugh deliciously, slowing down until I was almost crying.

Finally, _finally_, he'd push me against the wall roughly and add a second finger. He would start to go faster, while I would move my hips to meet his hand.

"Close, baby?" Jared would bit my lower lip, the tempo increasing still, a building of pressure in my lower abdomen, with the cascade of hot water around us…

My body clenched painfully before erupting in a pleasurable stream of pulses, bringing me to collapse weightlessly to the shower floor, my own hand sticky. I leaned my head against the wall, knowing I'd feel guilty later but enjoying the sensations that my own imagination and hands produced. This wasn't the first fantasy of Jared I'd had, but it was one of the better ones.

I stood up and turned the shower head off, feeling more content than I had in a long time. I might not be able to look Jared in the eyes without blushing (because I would be picturing him naked) but the silly grin on my face made me feel less guilty for my perverseness. Since I would never have the real thing, what's the harm in dreaming?

~*~

I silently dressed, an odd routine for me. Usually, I like to blast my assortment of morning music to aid in waking me up. But since Pat had come home earlier than usual and was thus sleeping, I decided to be considerate and forgo the lyrical accompaniment to my morning.

I threw some toast in the our defunct toaster (it was such a piece of crap, but it was better than nothing) and finally got it to a light brown color after ten minutes and four shoves of the button. I had packed my lunch by that time (an apple, peanut butter and celery, and a turkey sandwich) and was out the door a few moments later. My eagerness was easily read on my face and I grinned the entire walk to school. Thankfully, it was only drizzling by this time, otherwise I would have had to take the bus and not have worked off my dizzying energy.

I contemplated what I do in English, if I would say anything to Jared, or gape as usual. Which reminded me of an essay I should probably get started on. Hm. I could put it off another night or so. Nothing like procrastination.

I finally reached the front of the building and ducked behind Carrin Lotke, who was chatting with Danielle Bly, to get through the door. At my locker, I unloaded a few books and put my coat inside, not caring too much if things got wet. It was a fact of life in the Northwest; you lived with only one constant in life: rain.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Becky walking toward me. Double-checking that everything was out of my locker that I needed for the first three periods, I closed the metal door gently and turned to greet my friend.

What I saw instead knocked the breath right out of my lungs.

Jared was leaning on his own locker, across and down the hall from mine, and talking to Paul Matec, one of his best friends. They appeared to be arguing about something, or at least Jared seemed angry from the way he was frowning and shaking slightly. But that wasn't what left me flummoxed.

Jared had grown. And not just a an inch or so, but _five_ or _six _inches, and his shoulders had broadened. And his hair…he had cut his beautiful locks off buzz-style. I was astonished. Most different of all, though, was his expression. Instead of the easy-going guy I lov-liked, he was tense and troubled. All I wanted to do was go give him a hug.

"See what I mean?" I blinked and observed that Becky had arrived when I was drinking in the new-Jared.

"Yeah," I mumbled back, fixing my eyes on the object of my long-time scrutiny once more. Paul seemed to be doing most of the talking now. Well, yelling, really. Paul didn't have the easiest of tempers to begin with but him and Jared didn't _really _fight often. Playful bickering, but not actual anger. I wanted to walk closer, to hear them better. But that would (a) be rude and (b), the real reason, Becky was blocking my way.

She started babbling about a gift her nameless boyfriend had bought her. I nodded at the correct junctions, still watching the new-Jared.

Paul and him finished their conversation, in disagreement if the way they both stomped off was any indication. Paul went the opposite direction that I was in, but Jared was headed straight past me.

"…which was completely thoughtful and so totally sweet, right?" I absently agreed. "I know! Then I went online to…"

I held my breath as he was about to pass me, swiftly turning my body to follow his procession and consequently banging my elbow painfully against the lockers.

The noise caught his attention and, before I could brace myself, his eyes focused on me for the first time in two months (the last time being when he had asked me for a sheet of paper, sigh).

Being the naturally apt and socially brilliant person I am, I didn't avert my eyes like a normal person would do who was caught staring. I was too flabbergasted to do much more than breath (if that).

I thought he would move along once he assessed the noise to be nothing more than a clumsy girl flailing around but he surprised me by stopping. His eyes widened. I would have self-consciously wiped my face or brushed my fingers through my hair if I had any sense of body control.

For all that I dreamed of Jared Tala noticing me, an odd range of emotions crossed his face. He looked confused, then understanding dawned, before amazement took its place.

My insides were squirming in joyful discomfort, reacting to the nonverbal attention. I tried to convince myself that I needed to move, to check my exterior for any food remains or dirt streaks, anything that would cause Jared to stare like he was. There was no logical reason in my mind that he would gaze at me for that long otherwise. Becky's voice didn't even register and my vision narrowed to encompass only him.

If I didn't know better, I would call this a moment. I, Kimberly Magena, was having A Moment with Jared Fucking Tala.

Oh. My…he was coming toward me. What? Uh, _what_? I can't even blink, how am I supposed to respond if he says anything to me? This can't end well.

Fortunately, but so not, the bell rang, instantaneously saving and ruining whatever was going on. That luckily propelled my body into action and I broke eye contact. I mumbled something to Becky and took off for first period, not pausing to look over my shoulder. I imagined hearing a "wait!" but decided that getting out of that weird staring event was in my best interest, in terms of composure. I zoomed to class faster than I ever had before, arriving their breathless, and not from the run.

Something, and I didn't understand what, had happened. Something that never had before. Something had changed.

Jared Tala had noticed me.

~*~

_**I want to draw attention to the title of the chapter; isn't it delightful? It's a Billy Joel song, as are all my titles, and it inspired this chapter. **_

_**I also wish to thank all my reviewers--I appreciate every word.**_


	5. Chapter 5

~*~

Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.

Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language.

~*~

CHAPTER 5: Leave a Tender Moment Alone

~*~

By the end of first period, I had convinced myself that the Hallway Incident was a strange hallucination born of the fact that I hadn't seen Jared in a while.

Seriously, that was the most rational explanation I could think of. People who didn't know you exist _do not _stare like he had. I didn't have anything on my face, either. I had checked four times.

After reaching that conclusion, I consumed an entire container of tic-tacs. I knew I should lay off the mints for the sake of penny-pinching but I really needed it. They were my equivalent of cigarettes.

I couldn't help but daydream to second period, ignoring everyone else in the hall in favor of a delicious mental image of Jared throwing me fiery looks. And now I had something to go on, a stare that, while perhaps a figment of my imagination or aimed at someone else (even though no one was behind me), completely melted my insides.

I don't remember much of math. I mechanically took notes but wouldn't be able to say what the chapter was about.

I couldn't wait until English.

The hour seemed to drag until the bell finally put me out of my misery and rang. I had been situated at the edge of my seat, ready to bolt. Mrs. Curry's classroom was a two-minute walk from math. I hoped to make it in one.

As the first one out the door, I banked it down the hall, not even stopping to greet my friend Cherri, who stared at my sprinting form in confusion.

"I'm not crazy," I yelled over my shoulder. That only caused her to look more bewildered. I didn't care; a strange feeling had overtaken me and I needed to get to English.

I made it in a minute and a half, wheezing from the sprint. I was thankful that the school didn't have a lot of people going in my direction; it left my path unhindered for the most part. Now only if I actually listened to my mental exercise schedule…next time, I might actually make the run in a minute.

I caught my breath outside the room, noting that it had taken me almost three minutes since I had to re-capture some damn oxygen. Stupid lungs. I should have just walked.

I was staring at the floor, mostly because my face was red and I didn't want to display that fact to my peers. When I was finally composed, I made a sharp turn to enter the classroom, looking up at the same time.

Not the brightest idea.

The term _look before you leap _comes to mind in a much more literal sense.

I barreled straight into the wall.

Wait, no. That wasn't right.

Walls don't wear shirts.

Do they?

No, I don't believe they do.

"Kim!"

And they definitely don't talk.

But Jared Tala talks, has a chest like a wall (that will be featured in my risqué dreams), and wears a shirt. The last one is really too bad. From the feel of it, I bet he is ripped like Christian Bale (yum-my, did you see him in Batman?). But better.

Wait…auditory senses picking up a strange sound…did Jared say my name?

"Are you ok? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to bump into like that. Do you want to go to the nurse? Kim? Kim?"

…And my nerve endings are detecting a foreign presence touching my arm. It felt like a heating pad. Is he _touching _me?

I need to react. Please, my beloved body, don't fail me now! Do something, anything! I willed myself to respond.

"F-fine," I practically shrieked, trying to lower the noise of air escaping my mouth rapidly. Hyperventilating would not be good but I was receiving way too much stimulation for a one-day period. Jared really needed to moderate addressing or staring at me to once a day until I could properly handle it.

I took notice that I was still staring at his rather large chest, standing merely an inch away from it in fact, and jumped back. I also processed that his hands were lightly grazing my arms (he was awfully gentle for such a big guy) but they retracted back when I moved.

I immediately cursed my stupidity for moving and ruining the most amazing physical contact I've ever experienced. Damn myself! Fuck my life!

"I'm fine," I repeated, figuring that was a safe phrase to say. I knew I was capable of those words already.

"_Oh, thank god_," he sounded so genuinely relieved that I looked up. And _wow_. Knowing my crush got taller, and then standing directly in front of him, were two different things. The reality was so much more intense. Jared was _enormous_, the kind of big that professional weight-lifters strived to be. Michael Jordan couldn't look down on him. Goddamn.

Ok, new plan: focus on the real wall, recite the alphabet, and try to sound, if not intelligent, then coherent.

I focused on a chipped piece of paint adjacent to Jared's figure. "I'm sorry for bumping into you," I managed to say. Whoa, totally proud of myself right now. I actually got out an entire sentence! In un-gibber.

"No!" he protested in such a vehement voice that my eyes were startled back to gazing at him. I quickly flicked them back to the imperfect wall. "It was my fault. I just came outside to look for you," he sheepishly admitted, with a rather cute--wait, hold up, what? He was looking for me?

A "Why?" escaped my mouth and I gave up on my plan. It worked while it had lasted but I wanted to see Jared, talking to me, with my own eyes. Later, when I was alone in my own bed, I wanted to replay this moment in my mind with one hundred percent accuracy.

"I-I don't know," Jared said, seeming to be discomforted by my question. Weird. I wanted to prod the answer out of him but (a) didn't have the guts or (b) inclination to make him feel awkward for chatting with me. Who knows, maybe he'd actually do it again if I didn't screw the whole thing up.

"Right," I murmured, for lack of anything else to add.

"Jared and Kim, please come take your seats," Mrs. Curry called from inside her classroom. I blinked, wondering how I had missed the bell ringing.

"Right away, Mrs. C," Jared replied, his eyes not moving from me. I was unsettled. He turned around after another moment of the unwavering stare and I followed him.

Taking my seat, I kept my head down. There was so much to process…I was overwhelmed…and decided to simply master breathing in and out. We had talked, to each other, and it was amazing. His voice was beautiful; I could stand, or sit, or crawl, or anything, and listen to it all day.

"Mrs. Curry?" And there it was again. I peaked upward through my eyelashes and saw Jared raising his hand politely.

Mrs. Curry was writing a quote on the board and turned around when she heard Jared call her name. "Yes, Mr. Tala?" she pursed her lips, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

"Didn't you say that we would be allowed to switch seats after you learned all our names? Like, three months ago?" he asked, his question unexpected to everyone in the room. I vaguely recalled Mrs. Curry stating that but no one had followed her up about it. Until now, I guess.

A few others were murmuring their agreement in hearing her make that vow. She crossed her arms and turned a stern stare on Jared. "That is correct. But I thought everyone was comfortable sitting in their assigned seats. Does anyone wish to move?" Most of the room rose their hands before she even finished her sentence.

Mrs. Curry could do nothing but concede. "Fine," she huffed, "you have one minute to find another seat."

I could care less where I sat but my heart sank. I assumed that Jared would want to sit next to his others friends or (worse) Danielle and would probably end of leaving my field of vision. Ogling him from across the room was a tad more obvious than looking forward.

Everyone jumped up at once, seeking a spot by a friend or closer to front/back (whichever their preference). I wanted to sit up front but found I had no desire to get up and go to the trouble of moving, so I laid my head down to wait for the whole thing to be over.

A minute later, I heard: "Everyone find a new seat? Good enough for you, Mr. Tala? Lovely," she continued without waiting for a response, "now we can actually commence with the reason we are all gathered here today--to learn."

Really? Was that why we were in this government institution? I couldn't have figured that one out. What possessed teachers to make such trite statements? We, the students, were well aware of the reason we were locked in a nondescript building for six hours a day. It had been drilled into us mindless turtles since kindergarten.

My mental tirade caused me to snicker aloud.

"What's so funny, Kim?" a certain voice whispered to me, directly to my left.

No. Way.

My head rose so fast I got a blood rush. Oh my god, ohmygod, he was sitting next to me! "You've got to stop doing that," I actually _said_. Yes, me, Kim Magena, finally replied to a comment from Jared in a timely interval. That made me rather proud. I was making such fast progress.

"Doing what?" he asked, with an unusual smile on his face. I couldn't quite say what emotion it was; I had never seen anything like it.

Since I was pondering his expression, I wasn't concentrating on my mouth and was therefore coherent. Yay me! "Scaring me," I informed him, twisting my body so I was situated sideways on my desk chair. I was facing him, ready to absorb as much conversation with him as possible. Dare or prank or whatever--I would take what I could get at this point. Carpe diem!

For some reason, Jared looked pained after my response. "I scare you?"

"It's mostly my fault," I hastened to assure him, "I don't look up sometimes or I tune out of my surroundings; hence, I get startled at loud noises."

"Well, I'm sorry to have frightened you," he apologized, again, and it made me feel bad for being such a jumpy wuss and causing him guilt.

I smiled, trying to convince him wordlessly to let it go. "Don't worry about it."

Suddenly, he relaxed. His shoulders leveled out and his body scooted down casually in his seat. I was giddy; my words seemed to have worked!

"So," he switched topics, lowering his voice when Mrs. Curry glowered at him momentarily before getting distracted again, "you never told me what was so funny?"

I was just going to blow his question off with a stammer of 'nothing' but he appeared so enthralled and looked like he hinged on my answer. I was speechless for a second. I couldn't remember the last time someone had taken the time to actually listen, and was interested, in what I had to say.

Knowing I would probably sound stupid, I decided that it didn't matter. He wanted to know why I laughed, and I would explain it to him. Probably causing him to regret asking but that was a risk I'd take.

"When Mrs. Curry made that comment about us being here to, uh, learn, I sorta thought…" wow, my thoughts were really lame when spoken aloud, and I paused in growing embarrassment. Jared nodded at me in encouragement, though, so I continued: "duh, it's only been drilled into us like mindless sheep since kindergarten. I think we more than anyone have noticed the reason they lock us in this government facility is to quote on quote learn," I was caught up in my mini-rant and actually made air quotes, and immediately wanted to die of mortification, "….I just thought it was funny," I rushed out, picking at a spot on my desk with great concentration. Until I heard Jared let out his own snicker. I was instantly filled with happiness; I entertained my crush! In a good way, too. He found me humorous.

I let my gaze drift back toward him. "I didn't know you were so sarcastic," he said with a grin, looking too fascinated by this fact than the situation called for.

I puzzled over what that meant. "There's a lot you don't know about me," I retorted, amazed at my gall. But seriously; I may be in almost-love and obsessed with the guy, but we've never talked (to my disappointment) and this is the most he's ever paid attention to me (to my previous devastation).

I didn't think my reply was such a huge deal (it was the truth, after all) yet his face fell. I instantly opened my mouth to take back what I'd said, hell, tell him anything to get that grin back on his face, but he spoke first.

"Kim," he started, his tone low and serious. "I can't express how sorry I am for ignoring you all these years. I hate myself for it and I will do my best to remedy this. Could we maybe start over?"

Sorry? Hate? Remedy? Start over? Was he _kidding_? "Yea-yes, of course, please," I spluttered unbecomingly.

Keeping the same tone and mien, he said, "I'm Jared Tala."

Oh, he meant start over literally. That's cool with me. Thankfully he didn't stick out his hand to shake, I would've had to be wheeled out on a stretcher if he'd initiated more physical contact. "Kim M-Magena," I shyly offered.

"Great to meet you, Kim," he beamed, like he'd finished a marathon or won a million dollars. I didn't have anything else to top that, and gawked.

Mrs. Curry must have caught some of our exchange and lightly scolded us to pay attention. I returned to my frontal position, gladly willing to die right now, with a blissful smile.

I didn't even bother with a tic-tac.

The end of class came and I waited to see if Jared would do anything but Danielle engaged him immediately in a private chitchat so I exited, frowning. I shouldn't be disappointed; I already had talked to Jared more today than I ever had in my life. But the odd thing was, the more I spoke to him, the more I wanted to and felt bereft when I wasn't.

Which was only going to disappoint me today. It was Friday and I had no more classes with him, not even lunch.

I trudged with a disheartened sigh to the remainder of my classes, thinking only of his enormous smile and how I could produce it again.

~*~

_Good, bad? Not what you expected? Jealous of our lovely Kim? She still has so much farther to go!_


	6. Chapter 6

~*~

Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.

Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language.

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed; although I write for myself, positive feedback definitely churns the creative wheel much faster.**

~*~

CHAPTER 6: Honesty

~*~

When last period was finally over, I was one of the few who didn't race in a sea of otherwise frantic people. Becky was so fast she was waving goodbye to me as I squeezed past a few sophomores to get to my locker. She held up her thumb and pinky finger to her ear and shook her hand in the classic 'call me!' signal. I smiled at her, like I always did when she said or signed that. I think we both knew that we weren't the out of school type of friends. Becky and I hung out and saw a movie on occasion, or got coffee, but we rarely did much more. I enjoyed her company, I admit, but I never seemed to be the type of person someone wanted to be around for copious amounts of time or talk to on the phone for hours.

But that was fine. I liked my somewhat solitary life. It fit me and my magical power of invisibility. Besides, getting close to people would require confiding and sharing parts of our lives; I just couldn't do that.

Returning a few text books to their weekend home, I shut my locker and leaned against the cool metal. The crowd would thin out in a minute or so and then I would make my escape. I reflected on my day, for millionth time, and about what Jared said, how he looked at me, and every other nuance of the yummy boy I was crushing on so hard. The students dispersed and I began to walk out of the building, still awash in my daydreams. It had been such a lovely day, if only because of that incident.

I pushed the main door open with my hip and sighed.

"Hey, Kim!" Jared was standing off to the side and looked like he was waiting for someone or something. Maybe a ride? But no, he had a car. I, of course, squeaked my surprise (really, would I _ever _stop being stunned that he was finally conversing with me?) and froze in the doorway. "How was the rest of your day?" he smiled widely, taking a few quick steps to where I was standing and holding open the door for me. I automatically moved from the entryway.

I was gaining a small, miniscule bit of de-sensitizing and could therefore force myself to actually become a mediocre conversationalist. "It was fine, if boring. I've got some homework and that English essay is going to be a pain," I choked out, and forced my features into something resembling a smile that I hoped didn't look painful. "What about you?"

His eyes sparkled and he grinned impossibly wider. "Not too harsh," he said, and I felt my stomach do some gymnastics.

"That's good," I said, at a loss of if I should politely extract myself now or continue to make chit-chat.

He looked like something occurred him. "How are you getting home?"

I felt lame for not owning a car but tried not to show my embarrassment. "Walking."

"Would you like a ride?" he asked, his voice seeming so eager to please. Was this surreal or what? Had I woken up in some twilight zone? Because the way Jared was looking at me (finally) would not ever happen in real life. As much as I enjoyed this time away from reality, it would be exponentially worse when I finally woke up or he ignored me again on Monday.

So I declined. "No, thank you, I don't live too far away."

And I instantly regretted my decision. Even if this was an alternate universe, why the hell would I ever reject spending more time with Jared? Stupid, stupid me. But I couldn't take it back now. Argh!

I watched as his face dropped in extreme disappointment and he began _wringing his hands_. It was a nervous gesture I had never seen him do. It was adorable! Especially on a man his size.

We stood in silence again; him with his wringing, and me in uncertainty of what to do. He was staring at the road, and I at him. This, I could do all day. He paused, as if he had solved a problem, and looked at me again.

"Well," he sighed, with a wounded puppy pout that caused my heart to accelerate, "if you won't let me give you a ride, how about I accompany you on your walk?"

"But what about your car?" I was thunderstruck; even I wasn't obtuse enough not to see he was making excuses to hang out with me.

His gigantic shoulders lifted in a shrug. "My friend Sam will come get it for me. C'mon, let's go before it starts raining!" and he took grabbed my hand to urge me forward.

A surge of something electrical shot directly from my hand to the rest of my body, causing me to catch my breath in arousal. _Oh god_, was all I could think. This is so not happening.

He didn't seem to notice, tightening his grip without looking back at my now stiffened body. Was it odd to say that my hand felt right in his? Like it was supposed to be there? I never wanted it to end.

But when we got to the road and he was still holding my hand, I felt so awkward and unsure that I jerked it back reflexively.

He immediately yielded my appendage and shot me a more tragic look than the occasion called for. "Sorry," he muttered.

I wanted to say he had nothing to be sorry for, that I was the dumb insecure one, but (in an alarming pattern) I didn't have the guts.

It was a mostly quiet walk for a few minutes.

I wanted to break the silence with something witty, but nothing came to mind. Instead, I employed my stellar small-talk skills. That was something I could handle. "So, any plans for the weekend?" I said, my voice sounding croaky. I didn't bother feeling mortified; it was a constant state of being for me.

"No," he sighed, disheartened. I wondered if he was regretting walking with me. I wasn't the best company, after all, and I'm sure he had tons of people he'd rather be with…which reminded me of a question I was dying to ask…one I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to.

"Oh," I absently murmured, working up the guts for my query. Here I go. "Whyareyoudoingthis?" Damn, the words came out all jumbled and I wanted to snatch them back. Maybe I could play it off like I didn't say anything, perhaps he didn't catch it.

Newsflash, Kim, when have you ever had any luck? Not now, that was for sure.

Jared stopped moving. "What?"

I turned to him, the red in my face bright enough to illuminate a dark room. "Nothing, never mind, uh," I stuttered, trying to control my erratic breathing. His gaze was making me uncaring to his motives, once more. But no! Stay strong Kim! I was a nobody, invisible to everyone, and so I had to watch my own back. As much as I pined after Jared, this situation was a little too good to be true…and if seemed that way, then it likely was. I wanted his undivided attention and affection almost more than anything in the world but not if it would cause me pain and heartbreak. If this was a prank, dare, love potion, whatever, then I needed to found that out now.

"No, I heard you," Jared said slowly, his eyes measuring my movements with alarming alertness. His beautiful body was standing tall, arms crossed. "I just don't quite understand what you're asking."

That should've been obvious. I gave him a incredulous look. "This," I gestured at me and him, "is odd. I've known you since middle school and you never paid a spare glance to me. I know you said you wanted to start over but why now? What changed? If this is a dare or prank, then I want to know. I swear, I won't be mad. I'll even play along, if you want. But please don't toy with me…I can't handle that," I babbled, nervously searching my pockets for a container of tic-tacs. I found them and slipped two out and into my mouth.

"A prank?" Jared parroted, dumbfounded. "What? Has someone ever done that to you before?" he asked angrily, starting to shake slightly. Of all the things I said, he focuses on that?

"No, no," I shook my head. "But I wasn't born yesterday. I just want you to be honest with me."

"Oh, Kim," he swallowed, looking more pained than any person had a right to be by me. The two feet that separated us was quickly erased, and he put his immense, warm hands on my shoulders, staring deeply into my eyes. I stopped breathing. Damn, the guy was going to kill me. "This is no dare. Or prank, or anything like that _at all_. I'm not toying with you and I never will, that I swear to you. I just, ah, well, want to get to know you. I can't change my ignorant actions of before, as much as I want to," he fiercely swore, "but I can change what I do now."

I was struck, finally, by his veracity and I allowed myself to hope. Maybe this was real. Just maybe. "Sounds good," I couldn't stop the smile that spread over my mouth. He, then, seemed struck. As if his actions weren't his own, he raised one hand and cupped my left cheek. I gasped. The heat sparked a fire that shot directly to my belly and lower. Air became a problem once more.

I wasn't use to physical demonstration, from friends or family, and was surprised by the sheer yearning that overtook me. I wanted more; from him, from my father, even to hug Becky once in a while. And that was dangerous. This boy, who I had lov-liked for so long, suddenly takes notice and it makes me want more. And getting more wasn't realistic. I was ugly and pathetic and unloved.

Again, I pulled away frantically, in disenchantment. I didn't even look at Jared, I just continued stumbling along the path home. He probably thought I was bi-polar or suffered from extreme mood swings. One minute I'm smiling, and the next I'm forlorn.

I heard him sigh again and he took only a few steps with his long legs to catch up with me, and then slowed down to my pace. "So, do you have any weekend plans?" he inquired, probably only in politeness. I was thankful he ignored my weird behavior.

"Not really, just some housework," I shrugged, increasing my speed. I wanted to get home, go lay in my bed and cry. Dwell on my pathetic life.

We were finally passing a large oak tree, indicating I was close to my house. I concentrated on keeping it together until I got through the door.

"Well," Jared exhaled, "if you aren't busy tomorrow night, I would really love it if you came to First Beach. A couple of my friends and I are having a bonfire there."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude," I articulated. Honestly, I wasn't good with strangers. Or people in general.

"No!" he protested vehemently. "You wouldn't be an intrusion. It'd be great if you came, please just think about it. Don't answer now."

I was glad we were at the front of my house and heavily disappointed all at once. I nodded my agreement to think about the offer but doubted I'd take him up on it. "Well, thanks for walking me. Are you sure you'll be ok getting home? I could ask to borrow my dad's car and drive you somewhere…?" Well, more like take the car and deal with the aftermath later.

"I'm fine," he assured me, "don't worry so much!"

"Like that'll happen," I muttered, testing the door and finding it unlocked.

"Bye, Kim," he sadly waved, that unidentifiable expression flitting across his face again. I smiled tightly in response and slipped inside.

Once I shut the door, I observed Pat unconscious on the couch. My back still to the door, I sank down, listening for Jared's retreating footsteps. It took a few minutes, in which I was convinced I must have missed it, but I eventually heard his heavy trot leaving.

Only then did I raise myself up, rush into my bedroom and throw my body down face first.

If I cried, I didn't notice. The only thoughts in my mind were of Jared, what the hell had happened, and the new emotions swirling around inside me that made me want to be _more_.

And that last one, most of all, was the scariest.

~*~

* * *

_Yes, this was a pivotal moment for dear, under appreciated Kimberly. If Jared's reactions seemed understated, remember this is from Kim's point of view. In reality, Jared is trying really, really, really hard to make her both comfortable and not come off as too intense. Think about it from his pov (which won't be featured in this story, but you can imagine): she is hesitant and pulls away whenever he initiates physical contact and is skeptical about his motives. To him, it appears likes Kim doesn't like him (haha). And, trust me, he WILL be trying to change that._

_As always, reviews are more delicious than Jared's pining stare…well…barely._


	7. Chapter 7

~*~

Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all.

Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I read and cherish each one.

~*~

CHAPTER 7: Keeping the Faith

~*~

Time faded away. I cogitated over Jared Tala, his words, my own responses, and what it all meant.

Jared had changed. Delving past the physical morph (and damn, I was not complaining about that), a fundamental part of him was different. Even in the short amount of time (read: a day) that he'd noticed me, his treatment of me was almost…reverent. Like I was a precious gem or scintillating star and he was in awe of my magnificence. It was a fancy notion but not one that I took pleasure from. I was ultimately coming to the realization that I didn't know Jared well. Sure, I was infatuated and felt a connection with him, yet I wanted more.

I wanted to know what true, deep, everlasting love felt like. The kind romance novels were brimming with, the thing Shakespeare spoke so fervently about, the feeling that Billy Joel sang so passionately for.

I wanted to love and be loved in return.

I wanted to be beautiful and interesting, to at least one person.

I wanted to know every nuance of a person, down to their last frown.

I wanted my father to stop drinking and treat me as a daughter, not a verbal punching bag.

I wanted to be visible.

I wanted to love, laugh, and be happy.

And that was my epiphany. I was not happy. I was resigned, accepting of my fate. But did I take joy out of my life? No. And there was only one person who could change that.

Me.

And I solemnly vowed to myself that it _would _change.

~*~

The strength of my new resolve lulled me into a deep slumber that didn't end until six the next morning. I was surprised that I'd slept that long without Pat waking me up to make him dinner or keep him company. Hm. That indicated that he hadn't gotten too drunk the previous night. That was good, since I needed to talk to him.

Stretching my arms overhead, and hearing a few corresponding creaks, another idea occurred to me. I was always planning on exercising, but never really doing it. Why not put my body where my mouth is?

I searched my bedroom floor until I located a pair of sweats, socks, a sports bra, and a long-sleeved shirt. I changed in the bathroom, simultaneously seeing to my other needs, and trudged out into the hallway a moment later to find my sneakers. Strangely, I heard no cacophony of snores. Peaking into the living room told me that Pat wasn't even here. I ran to the window, to check this as fact, and didn't see the car. I only briefly gave thought to where he was. I, to my shame, was more relieved that he was gone than anything else. A sketchy plan was forming in my mind about what the subject of our upcoming conversation would be. With my new resolve, and the household fiscal issues, discussing his alcoholism (whoa, it felt so weird to actually put a title to his problem!) was eminent.

But for now, I sank to the floor, laced up my Nike's, and did a few leg and arm stretches. Once that was completed, I grabbed my spare key, locked up the house, hid the key, and began a slow jog down the street toward my favorite path in the woods.

It didn't take long for me to get red-faced and leaning over, gasping for breath, my calves burning. I dawdled to a walk. After re-capturing enough oxygen, I jogged some more. Then, when the agonizing lactic acid was released, I slowed down once more. So the pattern was established. I wished I'd had the foresight to bring a watch and time my intervals, but that was something I would do next time. I discovered that I liked running (well jog-walking, really) in actual practice not just theory. I let my tempestuous thoughts fade and focused on only the movements of my own body. It was incredibly freeing.

I took a circular path and arrived back at my house in almost an hour exactly. Sweaty and flushed, I was nonetheless proud with my accomplishment.

I did some more stretching inside the house and winced at my tight muscles. I'd be feeling that tomorrow. A quick shower later, and I was dressed and fresh for a new day.

~*~

Fast forward a few hours.

Well, that conversation could've gone better.

And maybe next time, it won't end with me locked outside my lovely house.

I sighed, pushing my soaked hair out of my eyes. It was raining, of course. I would denounce myself as unlucky all-around, but the chances of it not raining are too minuscule to feel as if _all _the world is against me.

I pondered getting off the porch to try the backdoor again but decided it wasn't worth the effort. I was indignant. I had made several great points about responsibilities and the ill-effects of drinking and getting (gulp) counseling if he was unhappy; but Pat recycled the words in one ear, and out again.

"If you feel that way, you ungrateful brat, then leave!" he had spat at me, spittle flying everywhere. I had flinched, feeling small and uncertain about my list of things to talk to him about. But I stuck to my guns.

I lifted my chin up. "Dad, you need to get a handle on how much you drink. Or, at the very least, don't drive around! That's just stupid," I lectured, feeling invigorated that I was taking things into my own hands. I wasn't going to be karma's lap dog.

"Stupid? _You _are calling _me _stupid? I've had enough, you dumb bitch!" he roared, and my insides had frozen. Ok, I may have taken this a little too far. I wanted to fold into my own body and tell him to forget everything I'd just said. Thankfully, or not, he didn't give me a chance to stumble out an apology. Pat seized me by the forearm and forced my stunned self out the front door. He then slammed the door in my motionless face and the lock clicked subsequently after.

"Think about who is in charge here!" his muffled voice carried through the door. "And maybe I'll let you back in."

I didn't reply, opting to take a wary seat on the porch step. Argh! This was so frustrating, and my eyes were unintentionally filling with tears. I recited everything I knew about Jared to calm myself down (an odd technique, but it worked, so whatever).

One step at a time. While that hadn't been an ideal interaction, I hadn't backed down. I stubbornly clung to my ideals and expressed what Pat needed to hear, whether he liked (ha, no) it or not (ding). I wasn't flabbergasted at his reaction, or him throwing me out. It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but neither was it rare for him to toss me bodily out the door. If I pissed him off, or he got tired of looking at me, he'd make me leave the house. Over the years, I'd found that waiting until he let me back in was the best, and usually most efficient approach. Begging simply made him antagonistic and least likely to acquiesce my plea, and yelling did mostly the same. Patience was key.

But here I was now, approximately two hours later, soaked and bored. I'd already played tic-tac-toe with myself a few dozen times (not as invigorating as it sounds, _really_) and hummed/quietly sang Bill's entire River of Dreams album. Ah, my fav.

The sun was setting, not that I'd seen the mysterious ball of gas in a long time. But darkness was pervading, and I stood up wearily, ready to negotiate my way in. I was cold, damn it. And, really, Pat didn't have a right to leave me out here like…a dog.

Uh, now I'm depressed again. What happened to standing up for myself? This really was absurd, even more so since I tolerated it for two entire hours. I had to find my gumption or fake a fucking backbone.

Standing, I pounded on the door, cursing that I hadn't thought to leave a key under the doormat this morning. "Pat!" I screamed, shivering. "Let me in!"

No response.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Please," I pleaded, seriously beginning to consider breaking a window to get back in. Or, maybe the car…but no, I could see from here that the doors were locked. Uh, this sucks. I wish I had some tic-tacs.

I stuck my ear close to the door, listening for any sounds. I picked up a faint gurgling, no…it was snoring. Fuck. My. Life.

"Seriously!" I yelled, growing furious. I gave the door a hearty kick with no result. Even a crappy door was stronger than pathetic Kim. Urgh! I viciously lashed out my leg again, to no avail.

"Remind me to avoid doing whatever that poor door did to you," said _him_, hot breath blowing across my neck. I screamed in heart-stopping fright, whirling around and losing my balance in the process.

Why does he always fucking sneak up on me? Stupid, hot, perfect man.

Jared caught me (oh, those warm hands felt absolutely _sinful _against my cold skin) and smiled from ear-to-ear. "I meant to do that," he confessed with a guilty grin, shifting me so I was upright. "You're just so cute when you scream."

I could think of several things I wanted to scream (like his name), and none of them were produced from fright.

Now, about that little detail I had to work on…oh, yes, talking. "Thanks," I replied, my voice thankfully even.

Jared was here, a foot in front of me, and I could barely compute the sudden change. My face must have shown my confusion.

"Sorry to just show up here," he fidgeted, like I would kick him off my front porch or something ridiculous like that, "but I didn't know your number and I was hoping you'd still want to come to the bonfire tonight. With me," he added. Oh yeah! Wow, how could I have forgotten that? You'd think that sitting outside in boredom for two hours would allow me to remember things I needed to do, but guess it didn't work like that when you're Kim Magena. "And, are you having trouble getting in? How long have you been out here? Where are your parents? Who is Pat?"

Whoa there, buddy. One question at a time. I couldn't divine his face but I heard that odd note of…protectiveness?! No, no, that can't be right. And, huh? He was here to escort me to the bonfire I hadn't agreed to go to? Probably because we're…friends?

I was taking too long to think and I told my brain to respond. Brain, respond! "Well, I'm a ditz and locked myself out and my dad, Pat, sleeps like the dead and can't hear me pounding on the door," I fibbed, feeling horrible for doing so. I was shivering now and really, really wanted to cuddle into Jared. Maybe rub up against him a little.

"I could probably open it," he offered, stepping closer. I pressed my back into the door, feeling his intense heat anyway. Why was this guy always so warm? I could feel my face beginning to flush and my body warming simply by being in Jared's presence. Something about him just made me want…more.

"Could you?" I breathed, annoyed to hear the tremor in my voice. Fine, I admit that having Pat throw me out of the house and then forget to let me in (when it's fucking cold!) agitates me, a little. Ok, a lot. Alright, geez, it _royally _pisses me off.

He seemed like he was being more careful around me, and gently put his arm across my shoulders to guide my body away from the doorknob. I swallowed the sudden urge to cry at his kindness, as small as it was. First, he comes here after issuing me an empty invitation to go to a bonfire (I hadn't at all expected him to follow through on it, maybe the reason I chose to conveniently put it out of my mind) and now he is helping me get back inside my house. My own father wouldn't even do as much. That realization jabbed at me.

His hand, thumb in particular, distracted me from my musings. He hadn't moved to open the door yet (I didn't care if he had to knock the damn thing down) and was staring at me (I assumed, since it was too dark to really tell) and _his thumbs were caressing my arm_. If I had felt steamed before, I was boiling now. My blood turned to liquid lava and I felt that if I didn't entangle myself in him (in all meanings of the word) right this second, I would die.

I wasn't too quick a reactor, however, and he stopped the thumb motion before I made a fool of myself and pleaded for him to take me here, now. Hard. And fast. Where he would push me against the wall, so I would feel his erec--

Uh, I needed to let up on the fantasies. They were ruining my sense of reality.

"Kim? Is that alright?"

I gave a start. "What?"

"In order to open the door, I might break something, which I will fix later. Is that alright?" his voice was soft and I closed my eyes to listen to its silky texture.

"Yes, please. Anything you do is fine," I sighed, rolling my eyes at how that sounded, and crossing my arms in sexual frustration. Although I have never had sex before, I could honestly say I needed to get laid. Maybe Jared would be so merciful…haha, that's funny. As if Jared would _ever _want to sleep with me. Shower and nighttime imaginings would have to suffice. And I needed to cease thinking of him like that when he was standing, oh, an arms reach away.

I squinted to watch him as he took hold of the doorknob and gave one seemingly small jerk to the right and a push. I didn't expect him to actually succeed but the door gave way with a loud crack of wood and a deadbolt sized hole remained.

He was amazingly strong to have forced the metal past the wood. I nearly swooned; he could force me past his wood anytime…no, no, no. See how sexual frustration made me resort to bad puns?

My next actions could be attributed to all the emotional turmoil I've been through in the past twenty-four hours, hell, the entire week, and my need for some comfort. Remember my little freak out about physical contact? Yeah, I was in dire straits right about now.

"Thank you so much!" I said in relief and tossed myself into his arms for a good, old-fashioned hug. Maybe if I acted really fast, he wouldn't have time to push me away. Because who'd want me hugging them?

As if he sensed my movements, Jared turned and caught me, pulling me into the safety of his embrace. Warm, hot, cozy. I loved it, I never wanted to leave. And when I self-consciously attempted to disassemble, he grasped me tighter. Hell, I deserved this and I would damn well enjoy it while the connection lasted. So I stayed there, in his arms, for a while, basking in his scent. I smelled a mixture of rain, trees, and fur, I think. A little like Raunchy Pig. But I loved that too, it reminded me of security and acceptance that only animals could display. Overall--he gets an outstanding for this magnificent hug.

His head was resting on mine and I heard him inhale and then felt as he started to shake. I must have some kind bad odor. Poor guy, he probably doesn't want to be rude but if I smell that terrible, I shouldn't force him to be near me any longer…

Jared was still locking me in his arms so I did some maneuvering and ducked under his left tree trunk, uh, I mean arm. "Sorry," I blushed. "But, well, um, thanks for opening the door and, you know, coming over. I really, really appreciate it."

I angled my eyes up and saw the huge ear-splitting mouth curl he wore. I couldn't help shooting back my own small smile.

He leaned towards me and I didn't move away for once. He knew my odor now and if he still wanted to be near me I wasn't going to throw sticks. "Anytime you need a hug, or someone to hold your hand," he whispered right in my ear, delicate as a lover's touch, "just call me over and I'll be there for you. Seriously, Kim; anytime, day or night, consider me your 24/7 personal service. And don't be shy about it," he tweaked my nose.

"Hey!" I giggled, yanking my face away from his reach. I stood in the doorway, uncertain for a moment but an idea took root and blossomed, so I beckoned Jared with a wave. "Would you like to come in?"

He nodded so fiercely, I thought his head might fly off. "Sure."

I was conscious of my father passed out on his chair and thankful for it too. He wouldn't likely be waking up anytime soon, so I could have Jared over with him none the wiser. I was sopping wet, and chilled, so I ditched my shoes near the door (Jared did the same, and wow--his feet are enormous) and invited him to sit. "I'll be right back," I said, dashing to my room to hurriedly change and bring back a towel or two.

It didn't take me long and I was back in a New York minute. I checked the clock on the kitchen wall and grimaced. "Won't your friends be missing you?" I asked, referring to the gathering at First Beach.

"Nah," he chuckled dismissively. "They probably won't even notice I'm gone."

"I doubt that, _I'd _notice if you were gone," I pursed my lips, not really thinking about how that sounded until Jared gave me a measuring look. "I mean, since you would've invited me and people notice when the people they came with are missing and, uh--"

"Kim," Jared luckily intervened, "I understand. I would notice if you weren't there, too. That's why I came here first. I didn't want to spend all night wondering if you were going to go. And I had a feeling you probably weren't planning on it."

I wrinkled my nose, taking a seat at the table across from him. And may I just note that he made our regular-sized kitchen table seem child-sized. Seriously, what did his mom feed him? "Yeah," I admitted, "you're right. I wasn't going to go."

"Well, if you aren't going to go, then I'll stay here to keep you company," Jared announced confidently, winking charmingly.

I was flattered but worried. "No, I don't--"

"No one will care," he soothed. "Unless you don't want to hang out with me?" his lower lip shot out in an adorable pout. My body re-configured itself into putty.

"I would love to hang out," I assured him, smiling happily. What a turbulent day its been. "But there isn't much to do here. I don't want to wake Pa--my dad up by turning the TV on and I don't know where my deck of cards is and I'm sorry but it's boring…"

"Nonsense," my Native American Hunk sternly said, "just being in your presence is how I want to spend _all _my time."

Wow. That was laying it on a little thick. I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe you just said that," I sniggered. Yay! I was relaxing enough to joke with him.

And his response? He actually reddened a little. Although it was difficult to tell with his dark skin, it was there all the same.

"Yeah," he sighed, "that was cheesy, huh?"

"A bit, but I can do worse," I boasted, biting my lip to keep from laughing more. I adopted my most serious tone. "Are you a parking ticket?"

Jared was watching me with amusement and that other emotion I still couldn't identify. Uh, this would bug me. "What?"

I jostled my brain to deliver the punch line. Tilting my head down to stare at him with my best attempt at sultry eyes, I said: "Because you have fine written all over you." I messed it up by partially giggling at the end.

He let out a belting laugh, too. "If I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" he asked with a straight face. Yes, oh, yes I sure would.

"I think there's something wrong with my eyes, because I can't take them off you," I retorted, getting into the spirit of the game. I had always been semi-fascinated with pick-up lines. They were so insanely funny.

"Want me to check your vision? We have to be mouth to mouth for me to be accurate," he scooted his chair closer.

"Is that something on your lips? Oh, no, it's just me," I murmured in reply.

He began to lean closer.

~*~

_Sorry to cut it off here but the anticipation is building, no?_

_Reviews equal great kisses!_


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Disclaimer: Ms. Meyer owns all. I am not making a profit off this story.

Rated: M, for sexual situations and extreme language.

**Happy Fourth of July!**

* * *

CHAPTER 8: Tell Her About It

* * *

Monday morning was an unwelcome arrival, one I protested with a hearty groan and burrowed my way back inside my cocoon of warmth. I wished that I was a caterpillar. I envied the simple life of that insect, where it spent half its life isolated, and away from any drama.

I bet caterpillar's didn't worry about boys. Or alcoholic fathers. Or almost-kisses.

I yawned, finally becoming resigned to rising. I did have something to look forward too, however. Jared had begged me (he was a bit dramatic, I was coming to learn) to walk with him to school. We had talked most of Saturday night, well into the morning hours and he'd left only when Pat had begun to awaken and I shooed him away. It was all so surreal that I had finally decided that thinking about it was detrimental to my health.

(Viva el momento! was my new motto. Why everything sounds better in Spanish, I couldn't tell you.)

As I rose from bed, thoughts flittered over and over through my mind. Before he'd left, Jared had tensed for a moment, and so did I. Probably for different reasons. I was thinking of the almost-kiss. I wasn't so sure he had meant it to be sexual, even if it took that connation to me. When he had dodged my mouth in favor of whispering a dirty pick-up line that had me in stitches of laughter, I was relieved and extremely disappointed all at once.

But, again, I was determined not to dwell. He would be at my house in about forty minutes and I wanted to be ready.

"Your mommy has a delicious boy-toy," I cooed to Raunchy Pig, feeling a little guilty for the neglect he had sustained due to my absent-minded daze on Sunday. Poor fellow probably felt forgotten.

I rushed to the kitchen and retrieved and half-eaten carrot. "I'm sorry!" I said. "Do you hate me forever?"

Raunchy blinked and stared at the carrot. I translated that to mean: _You're only a pitiful human, what can I expect?_

"Not all of us can be super-cool guinea pigs," I sniffed back. Raunchy turned his butt at me and centered his attention on the carrot, apparently satisfied with my truce. Well, at least I knew the price of his good graces.

I felt a strange pulse beyond my eyes. Blinking twice, I shrugged it off and started to pick clothes off my floor, trying to decide what to wear for the day.

There was a knocking at the door. I glanced at the clock and scowled; he wasn't supposed to be here for another thirty-five more minutes. I wasn't ready! I couldn't answer the door dressed in pajamas, with my hair having its own personal touch-the-ceiling contest. But I definitely didn't want Pat greeting Jared…that could only lead to bad, bad things. I hadn't checked to see if he'd gone off to work so I went from 0 to 60, faster than any Mercedes could claim.

I rushed past the living room. No Pat, check. Whipped open the door, glanced around Jared's large form; nope, he was gone for the week.

"Well, good morning to you, too," Jared huffed, a churlish look on his adorable face.

A blush stained my cheeks, per usual. "Sorry, I was just seeing if my father left," I remembered my attire and the hour, "and _why_ are you here so early?" I demanded.

He had the gall to toss me a grin and walk past me. "Oh, you'll see."

I stared suspiciously at his back. "I'm not helping you with any homework you forgot to do," I declared, deciding it was better to find out if that was what he wanted from me.

He turned back around, mock-hurt. "Are you implying I can't suitably and originally complete my own work?

"That," I said saucily, marching back into my room and leaving him to his own devices "goes without saying."

I shut my door before he could process my words, before I could process my words. I. Just. Teased. Jared Tala. What was my life coming to? I guess I was starting to believe him, that he really wanted to be my friend. Maybe there were no ulterior motives. I had never believed him to be cruel before, so why should he start now?

Maybe, just maybe, Jared actually liked me, Kim, simple, shy Kim…

Maybe.

~*~

Turns out, Jared came over early to cook me breakfast. Yeah, I'm in shock too. I hadn't noticed the bag he had been carrying when he'd come in, but it apparently housed all the ingredients to make the best, yummiest omelet I had ever tasted. Seriously, eggs have never caused me to have a mini-orgasm…but damn, that was one decent mixture.

I took another mouthful. And moaned.

"Good?" he asked, with a large smile, and a glint in his eye. I was getting better at reading him, but that unidentifiable emotion still stumped me. What the hell was it?

I nodded without verbally responding, deciding he didn't need to see my half-masticated food. When I had swallowed (giggle, 'cos I'm a perv and can't use the words masticate and swallow in the same paragraph without laughing), I said reverently, "This is the best omelet I've ever had."

"Really?" he asked, not in any way joking, but absolutely serious with such an eagerness to please it took me aback.

"Yes," I answered empathically and ate some more. Who knew when I'd have this delicious luxury again.

He reached into his pocket, pulled at a little notebook and wrote something down before putting it back. "So," he took a bite of his own breakfast, "what sports do you like?"

"To watch or participate in?"

"Both."

"Well…I love watching basketball, but I don't very often," I admitted, for I was not that interested in sports, "and I love playing tennis." Or, had at least. For a short time in my childhood, I'd had lessons.

He leaned closer in seeming fascination, yet I saw no reason for this. My response was rather banal, actually. "I'm a Nascar and football fan," he vacuumed the remainder of his food in a flash, "and I play most of the sports at school."

I knew this already. For the athletically inclined individual in La Push, you could easily play every sport since the school was so small. "Do you have a favorite?" I asked with interest.

"Probably track. I love running," he flashed me that heart-stopping grin.

"Me too," slipped out.

"You do?" he looked really excited at the thought of having something in common with me.

"Not to compete or anything," I hastily corrected, not wishing to incite him to ask me to run with him, "but I started jogging the mornings and it is so…" I struggled with my words, feeling foolish for my inability to express what I was thinking.

"Centering," Jared spoke the word my mind was trying to find.

"Yes, exactly!" I smiled, picking up our scrap-free plates and quickly going to clean them in the sink. Our dishwasher wasn't exactly in working order.

I was turned away from Jared, and therefore unable to see when he rose and appeared suddenly behind me. "Allow me," he said in my ear, his breath hotter than I thought possible.

I was startled but learning to retain my equilibrium. I had to, since Jared was apt to make such immediate appearances. Either get used to it, or eventually succumb to a heart attack. Point: I didn't squeal for once, but instead protested. "No, that's ridiculous," I was also learning to talk to him as if he were a normal person, "you made me a delectable breakfast and you're a guest in my house. I will clean."

"I will help," he said, "and you can't stop me."

Although his voice was teasing, I was affronted. "Now, just because you fed me and earned yourself a gold star, doesn't mean you can boss me around."

He was already drying the dishes I had placed on the rack. I fought against a small smile, and settled for a sigh.

"Do I have a gold star?" he asked, still unsettlingly close. I tried not to think about it. But, like a magic trick, the mind automatically thinks about whatever it is that you don't want to ponder. I smelled his mustiness, felt the heat. It was igniting my own furnace. Breath, Kim, you stupid girl.

"Yeah," I muttered, not remembering the question, or if that was the correct answer.

It apparently was satisfactory. "And what can one do with a gold star?" he innocently asked but I could detect the hint of wickedness in his tone. Gold star? What? Oh, right.

"Earn my admiration?" I kidded, since he already had that. "But that would take at least five gold stars, and maybe a few silver and bronze ones too."

We finished the dishes quickly and I grabbed my backpack so we could get on our way to school. "How about rewards? I think I should be able to cash in my gold stars for a treat."

I couldn't quite see where he was going with this. I tried not to stutter from my confusion. "I g-guess."

We left my house and were winding down the familiar street to school when he grabbed my hand. "I'm turning in my gold star," he said, "I want to hold your hand for the rest of the way."

I was highly impressed my hand didn't goo-ify right into his. That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I kind of wanted to cry a little. But, adhering to my weekend vows, I held decorum.

"No," I answered, my voice miraculously not cracking, "keep your star. You can always hold my hand."

For some reason, whatever it may be, this boy had decided to become my friend. I wasn't going to deny him.

* * *

Reviews are better than a Jared omlette...


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaiming** this. Here. Now.

**Rated**: M, still, even though I haven't gotten to the lovely details yet. Be patient. They are coming! (wink)

**Note**: I have almost finished writing the story, so chapters should now be pretty steadily updated. Sorry for the long wait.

* * *

CHAPTER 9: A Minor Variation

* * *

I would love to impart every little mundane detail of what happened in the consequent three weeks, but that would be too droll. Jared and I walked together to and from school, discussing everything from politics to debating the merits of a mocha versus a caramel latte (he swore by mocha, while I heatedly sided with caramel).

If I thought his turnaround in attitude toward me was strange, I wasn't the only one.

"Why the fuck is Jared talking to Kim?" Danielle asked Dena, neither bothering to lower their voices while sitting right in front of me. Bitches.

Dena shot me an appraising look and I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her. That would be juvenile. I pretended, instead, that they were toads with verbal diarrhea. It was surprisingly easy, really. "I just don't know, Dan."

"He gets sick and two week later, it's like his friends never existed. I mean, what the fuck?"

"Marcus and Tony said that he, like, won't return their calls. And he's been hanging out with Sam a lot."

"I heard he quit football."

"No way! He was our best wide receiver!"

"I just don't get it."

"I tried talking to him, but he smiles and ignores whatever question I ask him. The only one he really talks to is _her_," she glared venomously at me and I stiffened my back so I wouldn't melt under her scrutiny. Chin up.

Dena turned to me. "What does Jared say to you?"

I was stunned at their nerve and didn't answer immediately. "Can you speak?" Danielle hissed, obviously truly bothered by this entire thing.

I was not a big fan of confrontation, but these toads were pissing me off. Were they honestly surprised Jared didn't want to talk to them? "Can you be more of a gossipy bitch? Because, from what I'm hearing, I'm not surprised he doesn't want to talk to you." I snapped back before my brain could filter…wow, I was doing that a lot lately.

I was shaking slightly on the inside, and my pulse increased. I tried not to let it show.

The two girls gasped in unison. Thankfully, before they could reply, the bell rang and I dashed out of my seat.

That was only the beginning. Practically everyone in the school approached me with questions or watched as their friends came up to me and asked me what the hell was going on. It was a headache, that's for sure. Especially since I was more or less accustomed to being invisible.

Even Becky shared her doubts with me.

"I'm not going to pester you but, as your friend," I gave a pleased smile at that, "I have a few concerns, Kimmy."

I flinched at the nickname but obligingly said, "You do?"

Becky leaned closer to whisper into my ear. The hallway was crowded, the lunch bell had rang, and so I didn't see the point since no one was listening, or could even hear us if they were trying to listen.

"He is gone for two weeks without a word or sight of him, magically reappears in an enormous new body, with an air of…intimidation about him, ignores all his friends and then latches on to you? Not that you aren't latch-on worthy or anything, but isn't it…weird?" Becky's words weren't meant to cruel or hurtful, so I didn't take them as such. In fact, I was touched that she had thoughtfully approached me. It meant that, maybe, she considered me more than just a passing acquaintance.

"I know it's weird, but Jared and I have agreed to start over and he's been great so far. I don't know the details of what happened and I haven't really asked. But I decided not to doubt him," I explained. "He's never given me reason to, either."

"Well, I'm just kickin' in my two cents worth. I'm sure you've had tons of people doing that!" Becky sniggered.

I agreed with an eye roll. "I've gotten a lot of spare change," I laughed.

"Be careful with him, in all seriousness. I've known Jared since kindergarten…and this entire thing is so unlike him. And, I don't want you to get hurt considering your little crush on him," she whispered the last part, to my intense mortification.

"Shut up!" I exclaimed, "someone might hear you."

She patted me condescendingly on the shoulder. "Most people could guess, if they paid attention," she confided with a grin, "not only do you stare at him with a whipped expression but, last year, you doodled little hearts all over your notebook."

"I don't do that anymore," I lied. "I now only feel the friendliest of friendly feelings for him, really. No, really, Becky, I do! Stop shaking your head at me! Fine, smirk," I pouted as she did exactly that. She belted out a few more warnings and threw down some caution signs before her stomach growled and she excused herself with a jovial wave.

Eh, friends were so over-rated.

I entered the cafeteria a little behind Becky, since I had to exchange books at my locker, who'd already purchased her lunch and was seated at our normal table. I sat down, pointedly ignoring her, and grabbed my bagged lunch.

Hani Mason was seated across from me, intently studying a piece of yellow paper. "What's that?" I asked, trying to take my mind of my (I wish) lover boy and chewing on a carrot loudly.

"A progress report," she said gloomily.

"Did you slip a percent?"

When Hani looked at me with a sort of fever, I regretted my comment. She was a little…intense about her grades. "If I don't get perfect scores, then I won't get into the perfect school and I won't marry the perfect husband and I won't-"

"…have the perfect children," I finished.

She nodded fiercely. "I have to get this 97 percent up in Econ."

Was she kidding? "You're getting a 97? Wow-ness. You need to calm it," I shook my head, fiddling in my pocket for a tic-tac. I knew that mint and carrots weren't the most traditional of blends, but I was in the mood.

"Whatever, Kimberly," she retorted, again analyzing the report. Maybe she was hoping they'd made a mistake.

Since Hani was preoccupied, I turned to chat with Becky and Charlie. They were in a deep conversation, however, and I glanced away, straining my ears to hear what they were saying. Maybe this was her secret boyfriend? Charlie had been sitting with us for a while now and as nice as he was to me, he spent most of the time staring at Becky or talking to her.

I caught Becky saying, "I don't think we should say anything…" and Charlie interrupting with, "Why?" before my friend leveled him with stern glare and hissed, "I'm not ready."

I was intrigued and was about to scoot closer when my headache from this morning pinged me again and a large shadow distracted me. Jared?

I was not going to be startled by him again, so I twisted. "Hey you!" I cheerfully greeted, beginning to accustom myself to him and the stirring he caused me to feel.

"Kim," he said warmly, holding a tray with an unbelievable amount of food on it. I was conscious that Becky and Charlie had ceased their whispers and were staring avidly at us. I tried not to hunch over.

I gestured to an empty space beside me and Jared sat down. "Have enough food?" Becky teased and I chuckled.

"I'm a growing boy!" he stuck his tongue out at her and nudged me slightly. A hot trickle shot into my side where he had touched me and my breath hitched almost unnoticeably.

A fact struck me. "Why are you at my lunch?"

He scratched his head sheepishly, taking the seat next to me and immediately encasing my right side in a veil of heat. I pressed into it, happily sighing. I glanced up at him to smile and we locked eyes, communicating silently in a way that we were still exploring.

But I liked it.

"I ditched study hall in favor of a long lunch," he replied, taking a large bit out of one of two chicken sandwiches.

"Neat," I said. "Then I can show you this." I took out my history paper and proudly displayed my 98 percent. We had worked on our respective papers together and even though I doubted he cared that much about my grade, I wanted him to know.

If I was going to measure his reaction, I would have been highly satisfied. As it was, I wasn't expecting more than a nice job, or grin. But he surprised me by expelling a joyful breath and beaming at me, simultaneously wrapping his arms around my shoulders in an awkward side bear-hug. I was becoming more and more accustomed to this behavior, and therefore leaned in instead of away.

"You are so amazing!" he whispered into my ear.

I felt heat travel all over my body, made obvious by the blush stealing over my face and neck. I thanked whoever made the big decisions up there that I was tan enough to only look mildly mortified and not downright cherry-red.

"Thanks," I said bashfully. Becky and Charlie were watching the display with open mouths, not probably realizing how close Jared and I had become over the past few weeks.

He released me with a sigh and dug into his food, saying with a mouth full of burger and fries, "I haven't gotten my essay back yet, but I'm sure I did fine too. You checked it over, so how I could do poorly?"

I dodged a piece of food that flew past my hair, and flicked him in the ear. "Seriously, you're going to take me out with a half-chewed french fry. And, I don't know, you did write it...even I'm not a miracle worker," I teased.

He pretended to scowl at me for both comments, but his eyes sparkled and we continued to bicker good-naturedly. The lunch bell rang and we both stood, exchanging a private smile before parting ways. I joined Becky, who I could tell by the way she stared at me that she had something to say.

She was kind enough to wait until we were in the hall, almost to class, before sputtering, "I can't believe it! He is so into you! You guys are like a married couple, all bicker-y and sappy eyes. I think I'm gonna puke," she mimed that very action as I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, please," I said. "We're just friends." My chest felt a pang of wrongness at the statement, but I suppressed it and plastered a fake smile on my face like I was perfectly accepting of this fact. Ha. As if. But I knew, better than anyone, how the state of affairs was concerning our relationship. And, truly, he might be the closest friend I had ever had. And I was not going to ruin that now, as I continued to know him better.

Becky begged to differ. "You are so not just friends. No, no, no. But I won't pester you about it. If you want to talk about this, I'm here."

I appreciated the sentiments and smiled hugely to convey this.

We entered chemistry together and I let my thoughts of Jared drift away…

Well, as far as they ever drifted.

* * *

**And the plot thickens in the next chapter…until then, what do YOU think?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaiming** this. Here. Now.

**Rated**: M, still, even though I haven't gotten to the lovely details yet. Be patient. They are coming! Next chapter, I swear.

**Note**: Thank you to all the reviews! I really love to hear what everyone has to say. I hope y'all are having a great summer!

* * *

CHAPTER 10: Streetlife Serenade

* * *

It was another week before anything more noteworthy in my droll life happened. It was Saturday and I had just gotten back from my run and felt euphoric. I was getting better and better every week, and it was nice to be good at something when I tried hard. In previous endeavors, like trying to earn the affection of my father, it seemed fruitless; no matter what I did, nothing was ever good enough. Which, upon more reflection, I knew was not my fault, but Pat's. Whatever his problems were, they had little to do with my own actions. How could they? I had thought hard about this, and couldn't figure out how my birth was at fault since that incident was entirely his and my mother's doing. Ew.

I was red-faced but pleased, smelling worse than Raunch, when I re-entered our humble abode. I absently noted that I needed to fix the porch, stat, and thought about how to go about it as I filled a glass with water and enjoyed the feeling of lightness I had.

But this lightness was interrupted with Pat's entrance. He stumbled in, clearly hungover again, and gestured with a hand to get him something to drink. Normally, I would have done so without further ado but I wasn't feeling so magnanimous today. I ignored the unspoken command and lounged as if I were oblivious to the confused and aggravated contortions undergoing Pat's expression.

There was an obvious pause as Pat gave me another minute before he was forced to speak. "Water," he croaked, perhaps thinking his daughter was even dumber than he previously believed, if that were possible.

I neutrally pointed to the cabinet. "The cups are in there."

He gawked. I stood from the table, done with my own drink, and left to go change. I felt nothing; not pride for standing up for myself, nor disappointment that Pat was still...himself. I simply was resilient and resigned. I knew where I stood, and I would make it clear to him that I was not a servant to be ordered around and then disregarded. If he couldn't treat me with the love and kindness I deserved, and couldn't respect me as a person, I held no further obligation to the man. I would leave for college in a few months, if all went as vaguely planned, and he would never be subjected to my presence again.

In my room, I gathered clothes to wear after my shower, fed Raunchy, and was about to get clean like aforementioned when my door opened with some force.

I jumped, startled, and turned to face a spitting mad Pat. He was unbecomingly heaving from heavy breaths of anger, and I stepped back as fear and the same old self-doubt wrapped around me like an old blanket.

"I will not tolerate such disrespect," he managed to articulate with furious waves of his hands. "I have clothed your ungrateful ass for years since your fucking whore of a mother got herself killed-"

And something snapped into place. Something I had only precariously seen before, observed with an objective eye but never applied to my own life. This was wrong. I did not have to suffer this abuse. My sweet mother, who had passed away six years ago, had treated me with the kind of love and tenderness that a parent should show their child. Even though I was accustomed to such behavior, didn't mean I had to continue to tolerate it.

"Stop!" I said quietly at first, prompting no response since he was wayyy too busy screaming his own head off. Then another: "Stop..." and when that failed to achieve the intended goal of the word, I bellowed, "STOP!"

And maybe it was due to a pause in his ranting, or perhaps he actually heard me; either way, he shut-up.

Every feeling of worthlessness rushed away and, with that, an anger crept upon me that I had never felt before. With it was a self-confidence in myself that was new, uncharted. The past month had affected more than simply my social life (in reference to Jared) or physical body (running was beginning to show some nice results), but my emotional state too. I knew it wasn't me that was the troubled person; it was Pat. And whatever his issues were, I could not solve them, and he couldn't blame or foster the failed expectations on me. "I have had enough. You are ridiculous! I do everything to try and help you, to be the daughter you want, but it's never enough. No matter how hard I try, you hate me and say horrible things about mom that are so untrue it...makes me sick. I don't understand why you hate me, but I don't care. You have to stop."

I drew a shaky breath, far from done with my soliloquy.

Yet, Pat had regained his bearings and let out a roar of fury that made me jump and back away slowly. He had never been physically abusive before but that didn't reassure me now.

As contrary as it sounded, I wished to be invisible now; the look on my biological father's face was a distorted, ugly expression that almost made my prior revelations irrelevant. Almost. I tried to hold firm to my rather novel development.

"Your mother was a whore, just like you!" he viciously started.

I shook my head vehemently. "YOU'RE A LYING DRUNK!" I screamed.

He turned more red than before, a sort of crimson color due to his darker skin. "She fucked anything that moved, the slut, and didn't give a goddamn thing about her husband-I would have done anything for her, and she left. Gone like the fucking wind."

I didn't know if this was in reference to her death, or to their long-term separation beforehand. I found that it didn't make a difference. From the little I had understood in the time she was alive, and remembered vaguely, she had left Pat because of martial discord. I don't know if abuse was involved, or if they just didn't get along. But it had nothing to do, as far as I was aware, with infidelity. I could be wrong, of course. It made no difference; he was still a vile, terrible person to me.

"Will you stop already? She. Is. Dead. It doesn't matter what you say, she isn't here to defend herself or hear the accusations. I'm it. And I did nothing to deserve this." I was pressed against my window, with Pat a few feet away by my closest. If necessary, I could scale over my bed and through the door before he blinked. Well, maybe before he blinked twice. I wasn't superhuman, after all.

"_You_ disgust me," he said, his voice lowering. To needlessly increase the effect?

No need. I was properly hurt. Instead of shutting down into a small ball of pathetic Kim-goo, I again retorted: "_You_ are an alcoholic. _You_ need help. And it doesn't matter what you say because the only disgusting person here is _you_."

"Why you bitch-!" he made to grab for me but I went through with my plan, albeit a little less gracefully than it had played out in my mind. I tumbled over my bed, stumbled to my feet, and sped past the door and to the front of the house. Where I thought I was going, I had no clue. Regardless, I yanked open the door to bank it out.

And ran with my head first into Jared.

"Owwww," I groaned, only remaining upright due to the warm arms now clutching me tightly. I knew I must be a sight but found I didn't care as I practically morphed my body into his and buried my face into his shirt.

"Kim?" he said in alarm from above me. He rubbed my back in comforting circles and was probably going to continue his inquiry when (but who else?) my lovely father came stomping towards us.

Jared had only seen Pat in various states of unconsciousness on the sofa, or in his favorite chair. But one look at the livid man and my stressed state and he immediately turned so I wasn't in Pat's direct line of vision and nuzzled my head. I couldn't fathom what Jared was doing, exactly, but whatever it was (a particularly ferocious glare? or maybe his height spoke for him?) made Pat take a sizable step back.

And he hadn't been that close to begin with.

"Is there a problem?" Jared vocalized in a low, intimidating rumble. I could feel his body shaking slightly but I was not at all concerned for myself. I would be if I were Pat.

"W-who are y-ou, boy?" I was surprised to hear Pat stutter. I wanted to peak at Jared's face but his hold was firm. And sue me if I didn't mind someone else dealing with Pat Magena for a change.

"A friend of Kim's," he said stiffly. Then: "I think you should leave."

I almost snorted. No offense to my beloved Jared, but even his stature or glares wouldn't force Pat from his own home-

I was jarred when Jared lifted me like I weighed nothing (not the case) and Pat rushed past us in a huff.

I was stunned. What the fuck?

I turned my incredulous look upon Jared who had solid steel coating his eyes. And something…protective?...radiating from his stance. His body language was not warm or inviting; I could kind of see how Pat would be hesitant to mess with the tall boy before me. But still. Pat, for all his unsavory habits, was tall and stoutly built, like most of the men on the reservation. Even though Jared topped him by five or so inches (I used to think he must be over six feet, and now I am absolutely positive Jared is close to seven).

"I can't believe that just happened," I voiced, cuddling into Jared's arms again. I was so going to milk this one for what I could get out of it.

"What the hell _happened_?" he demanded. "Why were you running? Is your father always like this? Because I know that the Council would—"

I put my hand to his mouth and effectively silenced him. "Hold on," I said firmly. "Come inside and I will explain."

And so I did. I started by disclaiming Pat's behavior as being fairly recent (not mentioning the verbal abuse part) and told about his drinking excesses. Jared was an attentive audience, one who got angrier and angrier as my explanation progressed—not that it got very far.

"HE CALLED YOU WHAT?" Jared roared at today's incident, my starting point for how Pat had been behaving.

"Really," I assured him, "I can take it. Not a big deal. I just didn't deserve it, you know?"

Jared was pacing by this point, and now began to shake excessively. It was rather chilly in here, I thought, and even really-hot (temp wise) men could get cold. I stood to close the window and when I turned around, Jared was gone.

What. The. Hell.

An hour later, still seated on the couch, I watched as Jared returned, looking calmer and much dirtier. Whatever the intervening time had held, it was certainly lots of mud and leaves. I glared.

"What was that?" I asked directly, sucking harshly on the last two tic-tacs in the box. One that was sealed only a scant fifteen minutes ago.

I was feeling…not mad, but certainly not content either. Disregarding the Pat situation, I was mostly confused with what was going on with Jared. As much as I wanted to not put the pieces together, my brain couldn't help but dwell on all his weird behavior. And let's just say, the puzzle did not fit together at all.

"I'm so sorry," he said passionately, "I was too angry to stay here. I'm fine now. Please continue."

With a stare that I hoped was equivalent to ice cap melting intensity, I shook my head. Standing, I walked to his now casual position leaning against the wall. I touched his arm, ignoring the pleasant tingling and said: "You are burning, but clearly aren't sick."

"True," he agreed wearily, and I watched as his face attempted to become blank. But I was becoming better at Jared-reading and I noticed that his eyes told me to keep going, keep talking.

So I did. "You were gone two weeks, and grew what takes most people two years," I moved my face to his arm, absorbing the heat and rubbing my cheek on the warm surface like a cat.

Drawing in a breath sharply, he didn't say anything.

"And then, ignoring all your other friends, you decide to get to know me. Why, I'm not sure. I am still thinking about that." He opened his mouth to likely wax my awesomeness but I kept going. "When you get angry, you shake. Not a normal shaky way, but an intense vibration."

"Shaky way?" he muttered with some amusement.

"Whatever," I waved off. "I have all these independent things that don't make sense when I put them together. Do you have some sort of illness? Or are you on the 'roids?"

He laughed. "No, darling, you can safely rule out illegal drugs. But as for having an illness…I guess you could call it that," he said somewhat thoughtfully and somewhat cynically.

"Well," I prompted, "go ahead and tell me. Or tell me to shove off, and I'll let this whole thing go." As much as it would pain my curious nature to do so, if Jared didn't wish for me to know, I would respect that.

With a sigh, Jared sat down, pulling me with him and on to his lap. "Hey!" I wiggled in protest, trying to move next to him.

"Ahh," he squeaked, which sounded funnier than a normal squeak because his deep voice was not meant to go to that high an octave. He deposited me quickly to the side and reddened.

I laughed at him, not quite understanding his embarrassment but whatever. It was hard for someone as dark as Jared to turn that shade of red. I was impressed. I wonder what set him off?

"And…" I prompted.

"Well," he stalled.

"Tell me!" I whined. After all, it couldn't be that big a deal if he was willing to share it with me. I would consider us close friends, but we had hardly known each other long enough for deep, dark confessions.

My words caused something in Jared to lose his hesitation, and he started with the most ludicrous thing:

"All those things you mentioned before," he said, "are happening or happened because I'm a shapeshifter. Or, as it is more popularly called, a werewolf."

* * *

Cue revelation music. Oh, and a random side note: I've started reading fics in a half-page format. It's one of the options at the top of a page, and it's amazing! Not only does it make chapters look longer, but it also makes me seem like a faster reader...anything to boost my own ego, yeah yeah.

_Reviews make me warmer than a werewolf. So pathetic, I know. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaiming** this. Here. Now.

**Rated**: M, for eventual hot sex and debauchery. When? I no longer feel apt to make promises.

**Note**: A sudden writing haze overtook me and Kim had a lot to say. This chapter is a little more lemony than before, but still not there. And while I'm sorry for not delivering what I swore last chapter I would, the story wasn't quite ready to be taken in that direction yet. So enjoy the ensuing drama!

* * *

CHAPTER 11: The Nylon Curtain

* * *

"Right," I giggled at his serious face. "A werewolf."

He was biting his lip, looking a little lost at how to explain whatever was wrong with him. It was kind of funny to start this kind of conversation with such an absurd statement but now I felt more relaxed. It couldn't be so bad if Jared was making jokes, right?

"No, really, Kim," he apparently decided to continue with the direct approach, "that's why I grew so fast and all that other stuff. It's a normally dormant gene unless _something_ triggers it," he sneered the last part.

"Like vampires?" I kidded.

"Exactly," he growled.

My smile began to lessen as Jared persisted in this story.

He went on about Sam Uley (who I had met only once or twice at tribal festivals) being the alpha and about how more guys were showing signs of changing and more nonsensical crap that was taking this whole thing too far. Was this the punch line of Jared befriending me? Get me to believe this load of absolute bullshit?

"Stop a minute," I murmured, saying it so softly I was sure I'd have to repeat myself. But Jared somehow heard me and ceased talking instantly.

I took his face between my hands, studying it intently. I really didn't think Jared was trying to pull a fast one on me and what I saw disturbed me more than anything; he was sincere in this belief, this fantasy of his.

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Jared was sick—delusional.

Close to tears, I took his hand in mine. "I understand."

The look of relief on Jared's face hurt, and he gave me the most dazzling smile I had ever witnessed on another's face. It took only the barest of seconds before I was encased in strong arms. I briefly imagined them covered in hair and the picture had me swallowing my breath.

"I knew you would! You are amazing, the most wonderful person I've ever met and I told Sam this would work out well…he told me to tell you in parts, but I don't think I can keep this for you now."

What else could there be?

What other revelation could showcase that _my friend_ was going insane?

I gingerly patted him on the back, calculating a plan of what I was going to do. Talk to his parents? Sam Uley, who was obvious aware of this problem? I should probably start there.

"Kim," he started again, breathing deeply and smiling at me like I was the sun after a decade of rain (yeah, it was a lame comparison, but his smile seriously looked like that). "I don't know how to explain this from the beginning. So I think I will just say it and explain it backwards. Uh…I imprinted on you."

Imprinted?

Like he _drew_ something on me?

"Uh, what?" I asked, bemused. Maybe he made the word up—it sounds like a ridiculous verb anyway. Maybe it's part of whatever delusions he is having. So, I should tread carefully and be supportive. Ugh, what the hell is going on?

"As a werewolf, which is kind of an inaccurate word since we can shift whenever we want, unless we're angry and then we shift involuntarily, but not only during a full moon, and we have our minds still—but, like as I saying, as a werewolf, there is a rare, but not that rare, since it's already happened to Sam and now me, there's a umm, effect? No, that's not the right word. Occurrence. Still not a great fit, but it'll do. So this occurrence—when a wolfs finds, well, make's eye contact, and he sees _her_ for the first time, but I guess it could be a him if one of the guys liked that kind of thing…"

And he explained this process with velvet words and sweet sighs, among other minor tangents, adding that it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. I confusedly listened, trying to make sense of his words, mixed in with other superfluous comments. I gathered this much: I was his center. I was his world. I was his perfect match. I was…everything to him.

"Saying 'I love you' is the biggest understatement for it," Jared explained with such intensity that I couldn't stop listening or look away, "I _live_ for you. _Breath_ for you. I will _do_ anything you want, _be_ anything you want. Seriously, Kim, you're happiness is my happiness."

I was literally speechless. And thoughtless. And numb.

I was also beginning to feel like this was serious. Jared had seriously convinced himself that I was…what? His _imprintee_? It was weird. I was feeling odd. Almost like…I, in some sort of twisted way, believed him.

Yet overall, even if I didn't completely disbelieve what he was saying, I was forced to recognize that the whole thing made me want to throw up.

I stood up in the midst of him talking about all my virtues and my winsomeness that made me his absolutely perfect match. I was feeling dizzy.

"Kim?" he said in alarm, immediately noticing my mien. He made to move towards me but I held up a hand.

"Stop," I said. "Give me a second."

And I closed my eyes without seeing his reaction. Think, Kim, think. How can I reorient myself to this nonsense? Or, sense, as it may turn out being.

A few deep breaths later, I calmly opened my eyes. "Two things. First, I need proof. Turn into a werewolf." This, I thought, could disprove his primary delusion.

He pursed his lips together. "Outside," he nodded, holding his hand out. I grasped it, abnormally warm as it was, and was comforted.

I don't know what I expected. For him to get down on all fours and start howling like he was a werewolf? Maybe.

I definitely didn't expect the beautifully terrifying transformation that did take place.

If I was a fainter, here's that cue. But, since I more of a 21st century kind of gal, who grew up with horror movies and the like, I simply stared.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

As inappropriate as it was, I noticed how beautiful he was as a…a….

Yeah, that thing.

But I still couldn't quite get past the _fuck_ part of the situation. Ever had one of those moments where all words desert you and all that's left is one or two that aptly describe anything that could possibly happen? Or, at least, describe your reaction to it.

For example, you stub your toe. Shit. Fuck. Fuckkkkk. Maybe some agonized whimpering.

You find out that your lousy husband ran off with his anorexic blonde secretary, simultaneously draining your savings account to have an extended stay in the Bahamas. Hasn't happened to me. But I can imagine the only word I would be able to say upon enlightenment: motherfucker, motherfucking fucker, FUCK.

And the boy you've pined after since middle school is a werewolf…

A simple chain of fuck fuck fuck fuck works well for me.

I never before realized my extensive love for the word.

Jared shifted seamlessly back.

So those one or two words to describe anything?

They left the house.

Apparently words are inadequate in the face—Kim, stop looking lower!—of Jared's naked form. Uh, why didn't he warn me of this?

I would like to say I didn't stare at his, uh, package.

Scratch that.

Of course I fucking stared.

_Dear Brain,_

_You used to function on a semi-regular basis. What happened? Why leave me now, when I desperately need sanity?_

_Please re-mind me,_

_Kim_

My brain did eventually re-solidify and I worked my eyes above his waist, to some delicious abs...and I stopped there to gawk some more.

I heard the loud sound of breathing, noted I was panting and embarrassing myself and ruining my panties, and why wasn't Jared putting some goddamn clothes on? Wasn't it enough that he had dropped all this information with barely a "brace yourself, Kim" and now he was fucking with my body and mind even more.

"Put. Something. ON." I grinded through clenched teeth, having to forcefully rip my eyes away. My subconscious was going to go haywire tonight. And from the feel of my clenching stomach and ragged breathing, I was going to need the release.

I heard the smirk in Jared's voice. "Like what you see?" he huskily teased, not moving an inch. Well, let me amend that; something moved an inch. Up.

And back to the ogling.

"I kind of tore my clothes," he admitted sheepishly.

Huh? Stare, stare, stare. No, Kim, be strong!

I wasn't. And here, I could pinpoint later upon more rational grounds, was where I faltered and fell.

I slowly locked eyes with Jared and something absolutely primal ran between us and through me. It felt like…power.

And my thoughts discerned themselves into one clear concept. I had power over Jared. Accepting the ludicrous for one second, or at least accepting that Jared believed it, I was the key to Jared. All of him. His body, soul, and mind. Maybe not in that order but all of it nonetheless.

And maybe I was going crazy, or wanted more proof, or just needed to test the theory of this power, but I beckoned him over with a sharp twist of my index finger.

He immediately complied. It was like he was in motion before I even moved; he anticipated my want and acted to please me.

It flooded me with a sense of control and desire. My brain and good sense and any capability of higher thinking were obscured. He was so close to me now, I could feel the heat engulfing me. I reached out and lightly dragged my hand from his collarbone to his sternum, eyes watching his face the entire time. It wasn't necessary to look down; I could feel the reaction there.

Power, power, power.

Not bothering with saying more, I turned around and headed back into my house, so secure in the knowledge that he was going to follow me, I didn't look back. I went straight to my room.

When he entered the room, I said quietly, "Get on the bed."

No hesitation from him.

"Lay back. Don't move," I said carefully and watched as he followed my instructions exactly. Everything was quiet, except for our breathing; even Raunch wasn't squeaking a trill.

There was a hurricane in my brain that made everything swivel and stir around, words floating without control to the forefront of my mind.

_He's in my control. Center. Mine. _

_No choice. No free-will. _

_Yours._

And I knew what to feel.

I detached myself from my body, as if seeing the scene from outside the window. Jared, who was beautiful and nude, laying in wait for me on my bed, ready to do whatever I commanded of him. And he didn't see a single thing wrong with that.

But wasn't that just part of the magic?

Compassion swelled within me, along with overwhelming sadness. I moved to the side of the bed, and took a seat next to his motionless form. I doubt he even blinked. Why would he, when I asked him not to move?

I tossed a piece of clothing that I snatched from the floor over his most distracting body part. My hands were trembling. He still didn't move, only following me in desperate lust with his eyes.

And love.

That was the emotion I had continuously seen. The elusive sentiment I hadn't been able to put my finger on. He loved me. In every possible way.

A few weeks ago, he barely knows my name. We had only a handful of encounters, and I was obsessed with the thought of him. I crushed pretty hard on the guy—and guess what? With one stare, my whole life, and his, was changed.

Be careful what you wish for, right? That was no fucking joke.

I held so much power over this person, more than I had ever believed I was capable of having over someone. Shy, timid Kim, who was starting to gain self-confidence, only to be overdosed with it.

Let me be real here, it feels damn good to be on the other end of the reciprocated love spectrum. How horrible does that sound?

I took his large hand in mine. "Look at me," I requested, he did so, and I wondered what the difference between a request and a demand was with him? Nothing, probably.

He must have seen the distress on my face because he turned red and gripped the pillow to his very impressive manhood. "Oh man, I'm really sorry for getting carried away, I should have thought to have a spare change of clothes or to not rip mine, or to not just stand there like a jackass and expect stuff to happen, not that I did, I just want whatever you want…" I put a finger to his lips, exasperated at his rambling. This man could really babble with the best of them.

"This is a lot to take in," I admitted softly, stroking his hand.

"I know," he said, looking increasingly bothered by what I was going to say.

"_If_ I believe everything you said, and that's a big if for the moment, then there are several problems we have. But I'll get to that."

He nodded, biting his lip. It distracted me. No, focus! "I said the first thing I wanted was for you to prove your wolfness to me. We can check that off," I said sardonically. "I think I believe you about that. But there were two things. And the second major issue I have with this whole thing is obvious."

"The imprinting," he said succinctly.

"Bingo," I murmured, leaning my hand against his shoulder. Was there nothing small about this guy? (Rhetorical, since I now knew the answer was a resounding no.) "It really bothers me, actually."

He looked like he wanted to argue the bothered factor out of me, but settled for a "Why?"

Distance; I needed some of it. I briskly stood and backed away, barking "Stay!" when Jared tried to also follow. Instantly, he obeyed. The comparison of _like a dog _didn't escape me.

"That," I was getting too overwhelmed and wildly gestured, "is the problem. I say don't move, your rendered immobile. I tell you to stay, and your not getting up. Do you see the problem with this?"

"Kim," he was now the exasperated one, "I can move if I wanted. But I don't want to. I want to do anything in my power to make you happy," he explained, moving his legs over the side of my bed and shifting the pillow along with them.

"And when did this start?" I enjoined, having heard the answer in his previous explanation of imprinting. But I wanted to prove my point.

He frowned. "Kim…"

I answered my own question. "When we made eye contact after you changed, no?"

"Yes."

"Before that, did you even know I existed?"

I could tell he didn't like where this was going. "We already talked about this," he said, with a hint of pleading and sorrow in his voice. "You know I can't change the past. But I will make it up to you for the rest of eternity, if that's what it takes." He was fervent, completely dedicated. He sounded like a religious extremist. A religion called Kim Magena.

I exploded. "Don't you hear yourself? You looked at me, for a second, and now your tied to me for the rest of your life! What if I was a serial killer, or a lesbian, or two years old? Would you still love me?"

I needed to hear him say it almost as much as I prayed he wouldn't.

He did.

"Yes."

No hesitation.

I felt degraded. Disgusting and disgusted. "You don't love _me_, then," I concluded softly. "The _me_ is irrelevant. You would've loved anyone that this magic made you love."

"No!" Jared hastily backtracked, the shaking from earlier beginning to affect him again. "That wasn't how I meant it, you're twisting my words…" he grappled with what to say, but couldn't articulate anything further. The shaking was getting worse. "I have to leave," he said hoarsely, flinging the pillow off him and bolting through my door.

I ran after him, a little scared and a lot concerned.

My front door whirled open and all I saw of him was a flash as he flew outside and burst into his other form.

I shut the door hurriedly, and slid to the floor.

This was really getting to be a bad habit.

* * *

Did you think Kim would be flattered by Jared's attention and devotion after learning its source? I think it's natural to question imprinting, especially when the other personal paid no mind to you beforehand.

Isn't rambling, nerve-ridden Jared the cutest?

Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys rock my socks off!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaiming** this. I realize it isn't mine, or yours, but belongs to SM.

**Rated**: M, for eventual hot sex and debauchery. When? A chapter or so away, I'd say.

**Note**: Be patient with Kim, she has a lot to work through. I love angst but Kim and Jared aren't an incredibly angsty couple, she's just insecure. Love or hate her for it, she'll catch on eventually. Also: I had to put Emily in here. I love her character, and I think she is so much more than how she is usually portrayed. She has such inner strength and I really think Kim can learn from her.

* * *

CHAPTER 12; You May Be Right

* * *

I sat on the floor a long time after Jared stormed out, in a numb haze. All I could see was images of Jared, then of a dark brown furred wolf, the size of a baby elephant, in his place. Huge, so brown his coat was almost black, and the same shining eyes that I adored.

I somehow relocated to my bed, but I couldn't tell you when. All the feelings, the intense and powerful urges, had faded. Now I felt nothing.

No, scratch that. I felt something…and it wasn't something I particularly liked.

Guilt.

Horrible, debilitating guilt. And this burden of responsibility that, now having the knowledge of what drove Jared into my arms, and how he had no more free-will than a slave, if that much because he wanted to be like this, and I was just so confused…

So, while lying immobile on my bed was fun and all, the crushing weight in my stomach was not. I rolled over and pulled my notebook off my nightstand, and rooted up a pen. Turning to a blank page, I titled it:

_WHAT I KNOW_

_J is a dog._

I wrote in code (a dog wasn't very nice, but not telling, either) in the very, very unlikely event that anyone ever saw this list and actually believed what was written. At least this way, they would be thrown for a loop by my devious mind and its dubious words.

_J imp's on me._

_Imp=blind adoration and forced love. NOT REAL._

_Said the word and J did exactly as I said, the moment I said it. _

_The only reason he noticed me now was cos of imp'ing. _

_I hate my life._

I scanned my list over, pursed my lips and pondered the ramifications that I hadn't previously dwelled on for too long. They were extreme, enormous, and I don't think I could've handled it at first. I began slowly, with the first item on my list.

The substance of legends and myths, of the arcane and magical, existed. Was literally running around in my backyard. I admit to indulging, as a child, to a belief in fairytales; hell, I remember being scared after hearing a particularly horrifying myth of the Cold Ones at a tribal bonfire…the fact (that it was a fact!) that they, it, was real, was….

I trailed off in my own mind. The numbness, I think, was preventing me from having a complete breakdown. And why was I so eager to accept this? True, Jared had proven it to me and I had seen him as a wolf with my own eyes. What if I was seeing things? Or starting to have sympathy hallucinations? Maybe I was so in love with Jared that I was allowing his insanity to affect my own perceptions.

Or mayb—in love? Did I really think that? I admit to my previous infatuation. And, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I don't think it was ever about who Jared was, so much as what he represented. He showed me kindness at a time that I was desperate and hopeless, silently crying out for help. Even the smallest gesture, I took and treasured. Even if he never spared me another thought, he was there at a crucial time. And he was safe. Safe to pine for and to wish to notice me.

And now he was all mine.

When he told me to consider him my "personal 24/7 service", he meant it literally.

That was the thought that broke the dam, and I leaped from my bed and made it to the bathroom right in time to toss all the meager contents in my stomach. I dry heaved when there was nothing left, and finally stopped, disgusted even more with myself.

Unsteadily, I returned to my room, plugging my iPod into my stereo, and getting back into bed where I was lulled into a restless sleep to the lyrics of The Entertainer.

_Today I am your champion…_

I slept the remainder of the day, emotionally drained. When I woke up on Sunday, with still nay a sign of Pat, I fed Raunch and spilled my guts to the little pig.

"I don't know what to do, he says he loves me but it's all too coincidental and perfect to be real, you know?" I petted Raunch on the side while he chewed contentedly on a stalk of broccoli.

He twitched. I took that to mean, "Yes, Kim, you're bullshit meter is impeccable."

"No need for sarcasm," I reproached him. "But, really, what should I do?"

Raunchy chirped out a shrug and I rolled my eyes at his unhelpful attitude. Really, he was getting so spoiled and superior acting.

I sighed, shut his cage door and checked my phone for any missed messages that Pat may have left.

_22 missed calls_, was printed boldly, along with: _27 texts messages_.

Uh, I don't think I've had this many calls and texts in my LIFE.

And damn me if they weren't all from…yes, you guessed right…Jared.

I tossed my phone back by my desk and flopped on my bed in a huff of indecision. I could call him back; I was going to have to see him eventually. This "imprinting" business didn't sound like it just went away if it wasn't returned—and even if that were the case, I couldn't make the claim that his feelings weren't reciprocated. I was hesitant to admit anything at the moment, since I felt that my like/admiration/love was much more genuinely founded than Jared's. What if one day this magic wore off, ten years from now, and Jared woke up to discover he didn't love me anymore?

Did he even consider that? If imprinting only took a millisecond to happen, couldn't the same happen in reverse? And was it possible to imprint on more than one person? Did Jared ever stop being a…a…werewolf? And, if so, did that mean the love he felt from imprinting would go away?

My head felt even dizzier and I craved the answers to my questions. I knew that talking to Jared about it was pointless, since his apparent goal in life was to make me happy. Honestly, nothing would make me more happy than learning that all this was real and legitimate.

I needed to talk to someone else, an insider with outside perspective….

Sam Uley.

Jared had mentioned him multiple times now. He was the first to transform and I was willing to bet he knew exactly what was going on. I also had an inkling that the Council knew too. All those tribal stories couldn't be for naught—I wasn't very comfortable talking to them, but if Sam didn't pan out, I would take a trip over to Billy Black's or Quil Ateara's.

Once decided on this course of action, I grabbed the La Push directory that everyone had, and found Sam's number.

The next moment, the phone was ringing.

Before I had a chance to chicken out and hang up, someone picked up.

"Hello?" a young, female voice answered.

"Uh, is Sam there?" I asked, feeling like an idiot. But after waking up and calmly going through the events of the afternoon, I felt I needed another person to assure me that I wasn't the crazy one.

"Is this Kim?" the girl sounded like she knew it was me, and had been expecting this call.

I replied cautiously. "It is."

Some clanking wafted through from the other end and then the girl said, "I'm Emily Young, Sam's….imprint."

Absolutely floored, I squawked, "What?" Definitely not a development I had anticipated or even considered. I hadn't thought that Sam could have imprinted too! How common was this occurrence?

"Jared forgot to mention that?" she tsked softly under her breath. "I'm guessing he didn't explain things very well."

"No, not so much," I murmured, shifting the phone to my other shoulder and taking a seat at the kitchen table. I briefly peaked outside, still didn't saw Pat's vehicle, and was glad I only had to deal with mythical beings and imprints.

Emily hummed, seeming to deliberate. "Why don't you come over here and we can talk? Unless you'd rather speak with Sam. He'll come by in a few hours for sure. I can probably shed some light on a few things."

Yes. That sounded like the most perfect thing I had ever heard in my entire life. Girl talk had never held this much appeal. "You have no idea how much I would appreciate that," I said with raw honesty.

She chuckled and gave me her address. La Push wasn't big by any means. "Give me fifteen minutes? I'm obviously at Sam's right now. But it won't take me long."

"No problem. I will see you soon," I could hear her smile and warmth over the phone and it made me feel better. She hung up and I grabbed the house keys before locking the door and practically running to get to her house. It wasn't a very far walk at all.

I was going to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

I knocked lightly and a dark-skinned woman opened the door, and greeted me with a huge smil—holy crap!

I knew it was impolite and very, very rude, but I couldn't help but stare at the red scares that marred the pretty girl's face.

And I was fairly certain of what had caused the horrible scarring.

"Did he—he—crap, what the hell happened?" Normal pleasantries and first-time greetings were thrown out the window; I felt instantly protective of Emily Young for some inexplicable reason. Maybe it was her otherwise sweet face and petite build, but how the HELL had she obtained those marks? If something rotten was going on with Sam Uley I would…well, I don't know, but something horrible and bloody.

I would later feel awful for my uncensored unsubtly, but I was so flabbergasted that my normal filter stopped functioning.

Emily sighed and brought a small hand to her own cheek. "If you think this looks bad, you should've seen the other guy," she quipped lightly, stepping back and inviting me in.

Choked laughter escaped—was it ok to joke about this?—and I entered her small, but comfortable home.

"Do you live alone?" I asked, again with no thought for a 'how are you?' or 'so, you know Sam and Jared's huge secret like me?'.

I think I was going to have to accept myself for how I was: born with a defected brain-to-mouth motor.

"Yes, no," she unhelpfully replied, taking a few steps to the kitchen—it was a seriously small house—and grabbing a plate filled with the most delicious looking cinnamon scones I had ever seen. "Yes I live here by myself here, it's my parent's place when they come down from the Makah rez, but I don't really live alone. Sam is either here, or I'm at his place. Such is the life of an imprint," she commented, offering me a scone. And, yes, I may have taken two. Whatever. It wasn't like she was going to judge me—we had bigger things to worry about.

I took a bite and ooooohhhhhh myyyyyyy goooodddnneessss…

Hold on, bliss out moment.

"Wow," I gushed after swallowing, "this is delicious. You should market this as the solution to the world's problems. No joke, I don't even remember what I came to talk about in the first place," I rambled, taking another careful bite.

Emily threw her head back and laughed. "You are just as Jared described you," she declared. "We are going to be great friends. And thanks for the compliment, I bake pastries for a bakery in Port Angeles."

I focused on the first part of her sentence. "How did Jared describe me?" I wanted to know.

With a dismissive wave, she redirected the conversation. "You can imagine, I'm sure. He's a little dramatic about the whole thing. He was here last night, crying and calling you and crying some more," she sighed in exasperation, like Jared crying wasn't the most heartbreaking and terrible thing to ever been said! I didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"Jared cried?" I asked pitifully.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Sam had to order him to stop, it was getting so ridiculous."

My heart squeezed. I made myself comfortable because I could sense I would be here a while. "I'm sorry for being so rude. I'm Kim Magena, by the way," and I stuck out my hand, to which Emily gamely shook. We giggled together, like pre-teen girls, and it felt really, really good. I don't know if I've ever felt as instantly at ease with a girl as I did with Emily.

"Emily Young," she introduced with a charming smile. Even though the right side of her face was pulled into a grimace-like expression, all her feelings were displayed clearly. And I could tell she was genuinely happy to talk with me.

"So I'm going to want to hear all about how you and Sam met, but I'm dying to ask first: do you really believe this imprint stuff?" I leaned in to listen closely.

"I think telling you how Sam and I met might shed more light on imprinting. You see, Sam was dating my cousin, Leah Clearwater…"

I listened raptly to her tale. If I thought my life was ever eventful, it was nothing compared to the Emily-Sam-Leah triangle and the story of how Emily got those scars.

An indeterminable amount of time later, she wound down with: "Imprinting is inescapable for them, Kim. They don't have a choice, and I know that doesn't seem romantic, that they are bound to us in a way that is unbreakable. I tried to deny my own connection with Sam, and this is what happened," she gestured to her face. "It was no one's fault. I said some terrible things to him that still make me cringe and Sam had nobody to guide him through the werewolf process. I ended up with some scars, yeah, but I found the love of my life. Well worth the pain. Even though Sam offered to hurl himself off a cliff after this. So dramatic, those boys," she muttered the last part. "I don't question our love anymore. After all the struggles we went through, I can't deny either of us the gift we've been given. Because in all honesty, I think imprinting is a gift. It may be tough but it is so worth it," she finished dreamily.

Then she added, "The sex is beyond amazing too," with a wink.

My cheeks flamed. "I believe that. They really equip those boys with some damn fine bodies."

Chuckling, Emily nodded. "But don't forget," she cautioned, "that just because Sam and Jared look like one-man army's of steel, they are still only boys with the emotional depth of a puddle in Texas."

I pondered her descriptive words. She was right, I realized. Jared was only a kid who had been thrust into a very demanding role of protector. And not to mention all the bodily changes afflicting him.

I looked at the clock and my eyes bugged out. "I can't believe we've been talking for five hours!"

Emily stood, clearing the plates. "I'm surprised Sam hasn't come yet. He gets really antsy when he hasn't seen me in a while."

"What's 'a while'?"

"Twelve hours, on a good day. Six or less on a bad. Wolf boys are emotionally needy," Emily pointed out, summarizing what had been slowly dawning on me all day. "I figured this out the hard way with Sam. They need reassurance and love almost constantly."

As if Sam had heard her words, her cell phone started to buzz insistently. She giggled sweetly. "Like I said… Hi honey. Yes, we're still talking. Yes. No, not like that. Tell him it's fine. No, not now! Seriously, tell him to wait. I'm sure. Thirty minutes sound too long? Ok, fifteen it is. See you soon. Yes, of course. I love you."

I had politely averted my gaze to give Emily a tad of privacy. But my ears weren't attached to my eyeballs and I gave her a disgusted look when she hung up. "You sound so sappy and in-love," I pursed my lips, now knowing how I probably seemed when I talked about Jared.

She gave me A Look.

I returned A Look.

We both squinty-stared.

And then dissolved into laughter.

Uncharacteristically, I reached over and gave her a hug. It was awkward, and fast, but I couldn't help the new connection I felt with this woman.

"Thanks," I whispered. "For explaining and helping me with this. I know you have to go and schmooze with your wolf-man, but I hope we can maybe hang out again?..." I floundered a little, unused to socializing outside of school and, now, Jared.

She gazed at me warmly. "I would love that, Kim."

We walked out the door together. I bid her farewell, and promised to call to set up a lunch date.

"Oh, and do me a favor?" she requested before I left.

"Yeah?"

"Talk to him please. It really isn't a pretty sight when a boy, who looks like he's twenty-five, is hysterically crying about lost love. It's a little pathetic, actually."

I felt my color draining. "I will," I squeaked out, already in the process of mentally finding Jared and comforting him.

I deliberately decided to ignore Emily's tart, "Don't forget to wear a condom."

Five hours later, and what I had learned?

Emily wasn't as sweet and demure as she looked.

* * *

I took my time in returning to my little blue house at the end of the street, the paint still chipped. I unlocked the door, realizing as I did that it had been fixed sometime between when I was locked out and this morning. Jared really took his promises seriously.

I searched for a container of tacs and threw myself heavily until the couch. After speaking to Emily, and hearing how upset Jared was, I was even more conflicted. I tried to mesh together my concerns with how I felt. Did Jared really love me? Emily claimed that the imprinting magic was as real as anything. But there was something that made me feel disgusting for being a part of this. Like I was an accomplice to slavery.

Yet, Jared was happy. My mere presence soothed him, if I understood everything correctly. Maybe the magic had formed our connection without consulting him, but had it hurt anybody? I was honestly ecstatic that he finally reciprocated my affections. And that put the thought in my head…

What if the magic had affected me even before the whole werewolf thing had happened to Jared? If I was the one he was supposed to be with, then that meant we were soul mates.

The word felt heavy in mind. Soulmates. Did I even believe in that? But how else could I explain my pining for Jared for so long? It honestly wasn't like me to be so unreasonably attached to someone who didn't pay me a lick of attention. It was like I couldn't help it…

And, if that were the case, then Jared imp'ing on me was milestones behind my own version of that magic.

I was feeling better at the whole thing, more secure with my feelings and his. Like Emily had said, it was inescapable. I still had a million questions and worries, but was it so terrible to enjoy what had happened? Jared clearly didn't care. Not that he had the willpower to do so, but maybe the purpose of this phenomenon was deeper than even I could see. I would have to think more on this matter later. Right now, I had made my decision.

Finding my phone, I pressed talk, since my last four hundred calls were ones that I had missed from Jared. Five rings later, he answered with a breathless, "Kim!"

"I see your caller ID is working," I joked, twirling a strand of hair nervously.

"Yeah," he said unsurely, probably wondering if I was bipolar or something. I had been a little cruel when we had last talked.

I didn't feel like making small talk. An emerging trait of mine, I realized. "Can we talk?" I asked stupidly. "In person?" I clarified.

"Yes, yes, yes, of course," he had started saying before I even finished my first question. His tone suddenly sounded way happier and optimistic. "Now?"

"Sure," I quietly agreed.

"Be there in five," he promised joyfully, and I imagined his grin. It made me smile too.

I pressed end and sighed with relief. Our impending discussion would hopefully go a lot better than the first.

Something clicked in my mind, a settled and absolutely content feeling. A plan formed and I knew exactly how I was going to begin my talk with Jared. I glanced down at my clothes and took off like a shot towards my bedroom to change. Jared said five minutes, but that probably meant two or three. I had very little time to organize anything.

I changed, grabbed Raunch's cage and put it in the kitchen, and zipped over to the front door when I felt that twitch at the base of my neck. It dawned on me that I knew when Jared was around. Now was no exception.

Opening the door, Jared's tall and hesitant form filled the entranceway. I didn't pause, and wrapped my arms around his too-warm-to-be-normal body.

We spoke at the same time: "I'm sorry!"

"I shouldn't have dumped everything on you all at once, it's a wonder you didn't run screaming into the forest and accusing me of being delusional…"

"I didn't know how to react and so I went into defensive mode and thought of all the flaws with your feelings and the whole situation…"

"Sam made me see how shallow I must have seemed and I hate how I was before, but I'd like to think it was a matter of 'when' not 'if' I would notice you, even without the imprinting…"

"Emily was really helpful and I can't doubt our feelings any longer…"

We both stopped at the same time to breath and absorb what the other person had said. He must have sponged up my words quickly, for I was lifted off my feet and into his arms with a yell of happiness.

"Really?" he exclaimed. "You don't doubt this?"

I wrapped my arms around his delicious looking neck. "No," I murmured into his ear. "If I have a choice between having you and being incredibly happy with a few doubts, or being miserable to prove a point I'm not sure of, then I chose the happy version."

"Smart choice," he praised, and I felt him running his hands lower and lower, while his lips began to nibble at the spot where my neck met my ear.

"Well, you didn't imp on a fool," I giggled when he kissed a particularly sensitive spot.

He stopped for a second to my distress. "Imp?"

"Imprinting, duh. It's the code word," I explained, twining his hair between my fingers. It was so soft.

He carried me into the house and buried his face into my neck, his body shaking. With mirth, I realized. "I love you," he said.

I lifted my head and stared straight into his eyes. "I love you too."

Again, I whisked around in circles. Good thing I didn't suffer from motion sickness. "This is the happiest day of my life!" he pronounced, half-hysterical with joy. The power I had felt over him increased, but it was a good kind of power, one I would never want to abuse. I would rather die.

These realizations made my head spin slightly, or was that Jared's exultant spinning? "Stop!" I demanded, giggling. "You're going to make me nauseous."

He slowed down but didn't completely cease. "Are you going to go all psycho-Kim if I listen to what you say?" he inquired with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "No, you only get more gold stars for listening to my everyone command from now on."

"Oh, really?" he drawled, tightening his grip on me. I complying wrapped my legs around his waist and we both comprehended our position and smiled stupidly at each other.

"Yes. In fact, I have them all ready to earn in that room," I pointed towards my bedroom.

"Do you?" he pressed a kiss to my throat.

"Let's find out!" I said eagerly, squirming out of his arms and pulling his hand towards the destination.

I was ready to make a little dream of mine come true.

* * *

What did you think of Emily and Kim's interaction? Isn't it nice to see the progress Kim is making? She is gaining confidence and beginning to make great female friends, as well as trusting in her judgement and love. There are still a few unresolved issues but Kim has Jared now, yay!

Reviews are delightful and encouraging. I thank everyone for taking a few minutes to drop me a line or two!


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